


No need for dreaming

by AsphodeleSauvage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Attempt at Humor, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Meet-Cute, Other characters and pairings are mentioned, Photographer Castiel (Supernatural), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsphodeleSauvage/pseuds/AsphodeleSauvage
Summary: Castiel loves his job as a wedding photographer. He loves nothing more than to capture the pure love in a couple's eyes as they say 'yes' - soulmates or not soulmates, he doesn't care. Yet, he can't help wondering about his own soulmate and about the mark on his chest that promises him a love story for the ages. There is also the fact that he keeps bumping into the charming Dean Winchester at every wedding he goes to...This fic is a Christmas present for BookerLausanne. Hello, it's me, I'm your Secret Santa! Merry Christmas, BookerLausanne! I hope you will like this fic. (If you don't, please forgive me.)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 230
Collections: Destiel Secret Santa Exchange 2020





	1. First wedding - Sam + Eileen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BookerLausanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookerLausanne/gifts).



> The title of this fic comes from the song "No Need For Dreaming" by Misterwives. This song really embodies the story I was trying to tell.  
> I would like to give a HUGE thanks to my best friend EternalFangirl who beta'd this fic. She took care of every grammar mistake I made, she helped me refine my ideas, she gave me excellent advice and she supported me throughout the whole writing process. She'll tell you that she "just talked to me" but don't listen to her. I couldn't have done it without her. Thank you so much, EternalFangirl!  
> A big thank you to rose-in-a-fisted-glove, my sensitivity reader, who advised me on Jewish traditions and tremendously helped me make this fic more respectful and representative of the truth. Thanks a lot!  
> PS - This was supposed to be a one-shot. I swear. But then it became... a whole thing. And this universe somehow keeps living rent free in my head.

[ ](https://imgur.com/TBXZwAc)

**NO NEED FOR DREAMING**

**by AsphodeleSauvage**

**a Secret Santa present for BookerLausanne**

* * *

_Let's have a feast to celebrate Sam & Eileen's wedding!  
May 16, 2015 | 7 PM  
Men of Letters' Inn  
RSVP Rowena at 123-45-67_

* * *

Castiel had noticed the best man, of course.

It would have been hard not to. It was Castiel’s job, as the wedding photographer, to pay attention to every guest. Especially those who were to be in the pictures – the groom, the bride, the officiant, the witnesses, best man and maids of honor. He spent all day looking at them through his camera lens, trying to catch them in a beautiful, moving instant that the newlyweds would fondly look back at whenever they opened their wedding album.

He _had_ to look at the best man, it was only natural. And it was just as normal for Castiel to _notice_ the man. He was one of those people who were naturally photogenic: he didn’t need any instruction to strike the perfect pose, and the camera only enhanced his regular features and made him look like a model. If Castiel had been in the fashion business, he knew he would have spent hours-long sessions snapping away, trying to frame the broad shoulders, the chiselled jaw, the light dancing across his skin, the confident smile.

And if Balthazar had been there... well, it was a good thing Balthazar was not there, because Castiel was positive he would have asked the best man to pose for an art piece. Quite possibly naked. Oh, who was he kidding, Balthazar would have insisted on the nudity. Castiel couldn’t blame Bal, of course – this man _was_ a work of art. And... well, it wasn’t as if Castiel had noticed it in a purely professional way.

The point was, Castiel _had_ noticed the best man. Which was out of the ordinary, to say the least. He did not make it a point to ogle the best men at every job he got. What was even _more_ uncommon, though, was for people – let alone handsome best men – to notice the photographer.

Which was the reason why Castiel almost fell off his chair when the man he had been thinking about took the chair next to him.

“Hi there,” the best man grinned. “Whoa,” he added as he seized Castiel’s arm and prevented him from falling. “I didn’t want to scare you, sorry.”

The thing with photography was that Castiel always saw things from a distance. Or at least, he did until he was adjusting and printing the pictures in his shop, and then he had all the leeway he wanted to look closely at the details. But now that the best man was sitting in front of him, still grinning, he could see it all, and he was not safely hidden away behind his camera or in his studio.

The best man had the greenest eyes Castiel had ever seen, and his smile was even more beautiful up close. He had freckles, splattered on his skin like the stars an inspired god had painted across the night sky. He felt his cheeks reddening, and he couldn’t _hide_ it—

“Pictures are good?” the best man asked, pointing to the camera Castiel was still holding.

Yes. The pictures. The man hadn’t come to him to enjoy meaningless chitchat. Of course. He probably wanted to check that his brother hadn’t spent his money on the wrong photographer. It wasn’t as if people _noticed_ the photographer, after all – people smiled for the camera and the posterity, not for the human behind it. Castiel felt his cheeks burn harder with shame.

The best man was still watching him, and Castiel knew he had seen it all – how flustered he was by the man’s mere presence. The other man was surely used to it (people with his physique usually were) and there was no way he hadn’t picked up on how nervous Cas was being pinned by his attention. Perhaps he was enjoying making Castiel flush and start; most people would.

But Castiel had not noticed only the best man’s pleasant face. He had noticed the little things too: how he had lowered himself on one knee to comfort one of the flower girls when she had tripped and spilled all the petals in her basket, how he had hugged the bride and signed to her ‘welcome to the family, sister’ once she had kissed the groom, how he had tried to hide his tears during the ceremony. Perhaps the best man wasn’t enjoying his torment. Perhaps he was simply pitying him. Castiel himself felt plenty pitiable at that moment, so it was plausible.

“Yes,” he answered drily, handing the man his camera.

He watched as the best man looked through all the pictures, one after the other. It gave Castiel plenty of time to watch the man’s strong, calloused hands, and his soft-looking hair, and the way his tuxedo suited him just right.

In the end, he looked away, trying to focus on something else before the best man noticed him staring – but his gaze landed almost immediately on Rowena, who gestured at him and the best man enthusiastically. “Seduce him!” she mouthed at him. Castiel prayed no one had seen that. Hopefully, people would be too busy dancing and drinking themselves into oblivion to notice.

The good thing with Rowena hiring him for every wedding she was ever hired to plan was that he earned a decent amount of money. The flip side was that Rowena always tried to set him up with whoever she deemed pretty enough for him.

She had probably noticed how flustered he was in the best man’s presence. He would _never_ hear the end of it.

“It’s amazing work,” the best man said, handing him his camera back. “Really good pics. You have talent, man.”

“Thank you,” Castiel answered. With any luck, the man would leave now and give him some privacy to die of embarrassment alone. As long as he left before Rowena sank her clutches into him, everything would be fine.

The best man nodded. He looked a little taken aback by Castiel’s curtness, but he was still smiling. He had _dimples_ ; life was unfair. “Name’s Dean Winchester. I’m Sam’s brother – you know, the groom.”

“I know who you are,” Castiel said, nodding once. What else could he say?

There was _one_ thing he could say, of course, except that he was too busy trying to pray himself away from this situation that he didn’t think of it until the best man said, “And your name is...?”

 _Oh, dear Lord._ Castiel closed his eyes, mortified, and wished the ground could swallow him whole. How could he forget to introduce himself?

Dean was looking amused, and a little baffled too. It was probably his first time meeting someone as socially inept as Castiel.

“I’m Castiel. Castiel Shurley. Photographer.”

If Castiel was one to facepalm – as Gabriel and Balthazar often did – he would do it now.

“It’s a nice name,” Dean beamed.

“Thank you.”

_Please, just go away and forget that I exist._

A few seconds – or were they minutes? – ticked by in absolute, uncomfortable silence. It was the kind of silence Castiel was familiar with, because it was pretty much everyone’s reaction to him, but Dean Winchester had probably never experienced anything like that in his life. Dean would probably remember him, if only as that stupid, awkward guy he had met as his brother’s wedding. Those were Castiel’s main talents: photographing, and making people uneasy.

“I saw you during the photoshoot,” Dean said eventually after clearing his throat. “You know. Signing your instructions to Eileen. That was really nice, man.”

“It’s only natural,” Castiel answered. “Your sister-in-law deserved as much, and since I know how to sign—”

“How did you learn to sign?” Dean asked, apparently delighted to have something to talk about.

“I took a class. I was curious.” It wasn’t the full story, of course, but the entire thing was a bit too long for polite conversation. He was already asking a lot of Dean right now, it would be unfair to demand more.

Dean nodded. After a bit, he added, “You know, it was cool that you didn’t ask for soulmark pics. Most photographers do. Sam and Eileen were really stressed out about it. Thanks for that, man.”

So _that_ was why the best man felt the need to come and talk with Castiel. He wanted to thank him for signing for the bride – Eileen – and for not feeding them the whole ‘you should only marry your soulmate’ discourse. It made sense.

“You’re welcome, Dean,” he answered a little bit more warmly. “Rowena – the wedding planner – informed me that they were not soulmates. I would never press the matter on them on the most beautiful day of their lives.”

Dean flashed a gorgeous smile as he nodded once. Castiel tried not to let himself be _too_ happy that this smile was directed at him, or that he was receiving Dean’s approval, because that meant nothing. His wishful thinking was ridiculous.

Dean looked about to say something, but before he could let the words out he was interrupted by a loud scream. “Dean! C’mere!”

Both Castiel and Dean turned to see the groom – Sam – gesturing at his brother and beckoning him to the center of the room. Dean looked back at Castiel, biting his lips.

“I – think I have to go. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel answered. The sooner Dean would be gone, the better for Castiel’s pride.

“Are you sure you—uh, you don’t want me to stay? A little?”

“It is completely fine, Dean, you should go,” Castiel answered. Why was Dean being so polite? Couldn’t he simply... go and forget that he spoke to an awkward wedding photographer too easily impressed by beautiful, gentle best men?

“You can come with me, if you wanna,” Dean insisted.

“No, thank you.”

“Oh. Um. Okay. Bye, then.” Dean waved.

Castiel watched his back as he disappeared into the crowd. He still had work to do, and his new mission for the evening was to avoid Dean Winchester.

* * *

“You had a shot with the hot best man and you _let him go?_ ”

Castiel closed his eyes in defeat. He knew he shouldn’t have told his family about it.

Claire – she was the one who had screamed as soon as he had ended his tale – glowered at him from the armchair where she was entangled with Kaia, who looked a little _too_ pitying for Castiel’s already wounded pride. Balthazar had looked away from his phone (which only happened whenever an Apocalypse struck them) to look at Castiel with a mix of hurt and outrage. Gabriel’s gaze was one of mock concern and sincere disappointment. Rowena only looked sad. In fact, Jack and Meg were the only ones who didn’t look at Castiel as if he had personally offended them – the former because he was too sweet for that, the latter because she looked indifferent to the whole matter.

He should have stayed in bed that morning.

“I didn’t –”

“He was _hot_ , and he was _flirting_ with you,” Balthazar interjected. Even splayed across the sofa as he was, his whole body managed to radiate waves of disapprobation – quite a feat, even for Bal. “What else do you need? Didn’t you listen to a _word_ I said about flirting? I know I told you to play hard to get, but not like that, Cassie.”

“He wasn’t flirting with me,” Cas interrupted. He walked straight to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee, trying to ignore Meg’s bored “wasn’t he?”

“Castiel, tweetie pie, he came all the way across the reception hall to talk to you,” Rowena said, talking slowly as if she was explaining a particularly hard concept to a very young child. “Of course he was interested! Who wouldn’t be interested in you?”

“He wanted to thank me for signing to the bride and for not asking for soulmark pictures,” Castiel answered drily. “I do not call that ‘flirting,’” he added, mimicking the quotation marks.

“You know not everybody flirts like Bal and Gabe and Meg, right?” Kaia intervened. “Most people go with _subtle_.”

“I’m very subtle,” Gabe protested.

"You literally asked a random stranger if they would mind you going to your knees for them," Claire sneered.

"So? They had really sexy elbows!"

"Good God, Gabe, they had barely stepped into the DMV before you pounced on them!”

"Well, excuse you, I did not 'pounce'. I asked. Politely. And they took me up on it."

“And he got a really good pouncing after that,” Bal stepped in. “Not being subtle _works_.”

“I’m not subtle and I’m proud of it,” Meg added. “You don’t get good sex when you’re subtle.”

“I’m not sure this is the kind of information teenagers should be privy to,” Castiel said, looking at Claire, Kaia and Jack pointedly.

“I think I’ve heard worse,” Jack mused, which didn’t reassure Castiel about their parenting abilities in the slightest.

“But you get delicious, head-spinning romance out of subtlety!” Rowena protested. “Which is what Castiel wants, don’t you, sweetie? And this handsome stranger was giving you that—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Castiel said decisively. “He was _not_ flirting with me, and I’m not interested in someone I don’t know at all.”

“You waxed poetry about his _beautiful_ freckles and his surprisingly green eyes and how nice he was to everybody but you’re not interested? _Please_ ,” Claire scoffed.

“He was flirting with you,” Rowena insisted. “I saw it with my own two eyes! Smiling at you with this devastatingly handsome charm of his... asking you to come to the dancefloor... Romance in the making! So why did you let him go?”

“C’mon guys, you know that Clarence sucks at relationships. Leave him alone,” Meg drawled. Then she winked at him, in a not-so-subtle reminder of the time she had a thing for him. Castiel rolled his eyes in answer.

“There’s a difference between finding someone attractive and wanting a relationship with them,” Castiel said. “I don’t know this man at all. And he was _not_ flirting with me,” he added, turning to Rowena. “He spent the whole evening flirting with every woman at the reception, including the married ones.”

“Uh, he’s one of those? Not a huge loss then,” Kaia frowned as if Gabe’s dog had left a particularly putrid mess in the middle of the living-room again.

“Straights who can’t recognise it when they’re flirting with a man? The worst kind,” Balthazar agreed, a far-away look in his eyes that told Castiel he was reminiscing about the many times he had been confronted with this specific sort of cursed human subspecies.

“I don’t know, there was something different...” Rowena said in a sing-song voice.

“You’re a wedding planner, not a matchmaker. How would you know?” Meg asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I know potential when I see it!” Rowena replied in an offended tone that didn’t bode well for Meg at all. Meg just drank a sip of coffee while holding Rowena’s gaze, eyebrow raised.

And so was dropped the subject of Dean Winchester, much to Castiel’s relief. It wasn’t as if it mattered, after all. He would never see the man again, and this evening would simply remain an embarrassing memory he would laugh about in ten years.


	2. Second wedding - Garth + Bess

[ ](https://imgur.com/zCPTzL0)

_We are finally getting married!  
Bess and Garth's Wedding  
Please save the date!  
September 2, 2016  
The Wolf's Meadow  
Formal invitation to follow._

* * *

Castiel had no luck.

When he was a child, his mother had told him that God pulled the strings of everyone’s lives. If by some sort of twisted irony of fate she happened to be right, then God had decided that Castiel’s life was meant for comedy.

Castiel was taking picture upon picture of the soon-to-be-newlyweds – Garth and Bess, who had chosen a beautiful spot for their pre-wedding photos: deep into the forest, the leaves of the trees a crown above their heads and the lake they stood next to glimmering under the bright sun. The groom somehow couldn’t seem to strike a good pose in spite of Castiel’s guidance, and the sun was a little too bright, but Castiel knew the photos would be good. If only he could find a good angle – the sun was just a little too bright and the shading was strange... If he walked backwards, maybe... no, it wasn’t enough... maybe try some distance again...

And that was how he felt the ground disappear from under his feet and he stumbled backward into uncertain doom.

He was falling ass-backwards into the lake. Of course he was. Some kid was going to put him on YouTube or on Twitter and everyone would laugh at him. _Oh, shit._

Then strong arms wrapped themselves around his middle and a rough voice near his ear said, “Whoa!”

Castiel caught a whiff of cologne, looked up... and met green eyes.

_Impossible._

And yet – the freckles, the charming smile, the dimples, the voice...

“Castiel Shurley, right?” Dean Winchester asked as he steadied Castiel on his feet.

God, his arms were strong and hot around him...

“Um. Correct.” Castiel winced inwardly as soon as the words were out. _Correct_? Who in their right mind said things like that? He knew he was “speaking weird,” as Kaia and Claire often told him, but this was too formal even for him. “Dean Winchester, right?”

“Fancy meeting you again,” Dean beamed.

 _What_ was Castiel supposed to answer to that? ‘Fancy indeed, since I fancy you?’ That was something Balthazar would say, he knew that, but Castiel was no Balthazar.

He was saved from answering by the bride’s scream, “Oh, are you okay?”

They didn’t have time to talk after that, as the bride and the groom and their witnesses rushed to him to check whether he--and more importantly, his camera--was alright, and Dean was whisked away by a bearded old man to do God knew what. Castiel went back to his photographs, trying to focus.

Over one year had passed, and Castiel hadn’t thought much about Dean Winchester. There wasn’t much to mull over, since he didn’t know him at all and their meeting had been but a few lost minutes in Castiel’s life. Yet, Dean was all he could think about during the whole ceremony.

Garth and Bess were Pagan and had planned their ceremony accordingly, which Castiel knew had delighted Rowena. He usually loved Pagan weddings, but this time his mind wasn’t in it, no matter how beautiful the ceremony was. He snapped photographs mechanically as the procession of friends and family came in, cursing his eyes for being drawn to Dean like magnets – he looked stunning in his tux, and the happy smile gracing his features somehow made his beauty as blinding as the sun.

The ceremony itself came as a bit of relief. Castiel could focus on it instead of panicking over speaking with someone who had witnessed him ridicule himself _twice_. He was immortalising love – that was an important mission and he could focus his whole being on that instead of chastising himself and feeling self-conscious.

The attunement, the circle casting and the elemental blessings were a blur he photographed on autopilot as he was busy trying to convince himself. _You’re a professional, you enjoy weddings, you have a mission, stop caring about anything else. Breathe in, breathe out._ _What would Rowena say?_

Well, Rowena might reprimand him for not paying attention to a wedding she had poured every bit of her soul into (Pagan weddings were her thing, and that was the reason Castiel enjoyed them so much: nothing like pure joy on the face of someone who has been beaten up by life). Or she might encourage him to think about Dean even more. There was no way to know what she would say.

Once they got to the consecration of the rings, though, Castiel was fully back. He snapped away the exchange of vows and rings, trying not to tear up as Bess began to speak. “I, Bess Myers, take you, Garth Fitzgerald IV, to be my wedded husband. To hold in the highest of light, day in and day out, through the storms, and the rain and the wonderful mysteries of this life. I promise you faithfulness, compassion, and friendship from this day forward.” And a bit later on, Garth spoke, “With this ring, I give you my heart. I promise from this day forward, you shall not walk alone. May my heart be your shelter, and my arms be your home.”

 _May my heart be your shelter, and my arms be your home... Through the storms and the rain and the wonderful mysteries of life..._ Castiel’s heart swelled with happiness as they smiled at each other, full of their love and their promise of forever; but his heart was also a tiny bit heavy as well. There was something about this love, this devotion, this absolute acceptance that never failed to move him. To make him feel... not jealous, it wasn’t that... but it made him ache with _want_. Want for someone to look at him in the same way, someone to look at with love, and want to find someone who would be his shelter and want him to be theirs.

Or perhaps it was just the soulmark speaking, he thought as he rubbed his chest, on the spot over his heart where his soulmark was inked into his skin, deeper and more eternal than any tattoo, for better or for worse. It was burning like the pits of hell – it did that often, and of course it had to choose a wedding to manifest itself.

The burning felt like a longing, sometimes. Often, Castiel couldn’t even say if it was his or his soulmate’s. It left a bitter taste on his tongue – the fact that they felt the same, the fact that his soulmate felt that way, the fact that he couldn’t tell where it ended for him and where it began for this intimate, unknown other.

A few hours later – after the soulmark blessing, and the handfasting, and the blessings, and the Sacred Union, and the chants, and the marriage pronouncement, and Rowena’s satisfied nod, and the start of the party and the feast and the dances – Dean fell into a chair next to him, a plateful of cake in each hand.

“Want one?” He waved his hand in front of Cas temptingly.

“I’m working,” Castiel reminded him, waving his camera in front of him in turn.

“Ooh, serious guy, aren’t you?” Dean said with a smirk. “You should relax, I’m sure you have plenty of good pics already. Besides, the party’s over. Cinderella went home already.”

Castiel looked at the meadow where the party was taking place. The newlyweds had left, two of the witnesses were drunk-dancing together, and Rowena was nowhere in sight. Perhaps Dean was right. He gratefully accepted the slice of cake.

“You don’t enjoy parties much, do you?” Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged, not knowing what to say. Silence was safe; silence usually didn’t bring humiliation in its wake.

“Must be exhausting to attend weddings,” Dean noticed airily as he took a bite of cake.

“Well, usually no one asks the photographer to join in on the ‘fun,’” Castiel replied.

Dean laughed. He probably had a beautiful laugh, something musical that would make angels cry and quiver in envy, but as it was, Dean’s mouth was full and his laugh less than alluring. The sight, too, was barely something to remember. It was sort of adorable, in its odd way.

“You’re a funny guy, huh?” Dean asked after he had swallowed. “Still, must be pretty hard to attend all those parties. How did you become a wedding photographer?”

Castiel toyed with his fork. There was no way he could avoid answering a direct question. “By chance, actually. It was... an accident.”

“Tell me. I wanna know all about how people choose a career on accident.” Dean’s eyes were twinkling with amusement. At least, it was marginally better than to be laughed at. Castiel knew progress when he saw it.

“I was initially supposed to be a doctor,” Castiel explained. “Or, at least, it was the career path my mother had chosen for me. But I –”

How to explain to a perfect stranger that he had run away from home because of his mother? All that was too much to dump on Dean, and too dark for a first conversation, he decided; you don’t pour your heart out to strangers, especially not if they are charming and there is a slight chance they don’t find you completely crazy yet. “We fell out, and I decided the career wasn’t for me.”

“Too much study and pressure, too few rewards, huh?” Dean asked. “I get that.”

“Yes, actually,” Castiel agreed, surprised that a complete stranger could understand that. “And taking care of people when there’s nothing you can do to help them – seeing them die and suffer— it’s depressing. I didn’t have the money for it, either. I was working several jobs, hoping to find my path, but thinking I would never become _someone_.” Dean was looking at him with intensity, his green eyes focused on Castiel only. It was strange, seeing those eyes looking at him as if to pierce the mysteries of his soul. As if Dean was interested. As if Dean _understood_. “And one day Balthazar asked me to participate in his art project – he was an art student—”

“Balthazar?” Dean asked. He was no longer looking at Castiel, electing to cut his cake into slices with his fork instead. “Best friend?”

“No.”

Dean coughed. “Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Brother?”

“Family,” Castiel answered curtly. “Do you want to hear the story or would you rather keep on interrupting me?”

“Sassy and bossy,” Dean muttered, but he was smiling and he winked at Castiel.

“I started going to his exhibitions, and then to his classes—and you can say I fell in love with photography. I won a scholarship for a degree in photography, and—here I am.”

Castiel took a mouthful of cake in order to avoid any further questions. His story always seemed... bland and uninteresting when he told the short version of it. It didn’t convey the poetry of shapes, the immortalising of the ephemeral, the beauty of capturing the littlest things that had drawn him to photography in the first place. But the long (and uneventful) version of the story would take too much time, and no one liked listening to Castiel for very long – apart from his family.

“But how did you end up being a _wedding_ photographer, exactly?” Dean asked.

Castiel waited until he had chewed and swallowed his mouthful of cake to answer. “By necessity, mostly.” Dean looked at him in silence, obviously expecting more. “I opened up a photography business to earn a living. I was initially attracted to the artistic dimension of photography, but that doesn’t put food on the table. As a result, I opened up to a more materialistic practice of my art. Weddings, engagements, baby photos, family photos, photos for local businesses— everything that people want. Although I do find myself doing more weddings than most – Rowena likes to hire me.”

“Having a frightening business lady like you – that’s the key to having a job. Noted.”

“Rowena is family.”

Dean’s eyes opened wide. “Dude, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult her—”

“She is more terrifying than you will ever know.”

“Oh.” Dean squinted. “Did you just _prank_ me?”

“I did no such thing.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

Dean looked at him suspiciously. Then he said, “Must be hard, to go for the art and settle for the practical thing instead.”

“It’s not a problem. There is beauty in immortalising the ephemeral, Dean. Capturing a unique moment of pure love... that is an art in itself,” Castiel mused. “I like doing it. And I like that people will open up their photo albums a few years later and relive their most beautiful moments.”

“That makes sense. I guess. Sam and Eileen really love their wedding photos – they were beautiful, man.”

“Thank you.”

Dean seemed to hesitate. Then he said, “Tell me more about your art?” It sounded both like a question and an invitation. That was strange.

“Are you sure you want to spend time with me? Your friends—” He waved towards the meadow, where a couple of very intoxicated women were doing cartwheels in what was supposed to be sync, but failed just a little to be endearing.

“I see them all the damn time,” Dean answered quickly, interrupting him. “Unless I’m bothering you. Do you... want me to go?”

He looked so worried, all of a sudden. As if not being wanted somewhere hurt him to his core. And Castiel found that no, he _really_ didn’t want Dean to go. At some point during the conversation, he had relaxed. Talking like this was – easy. Or, well, not exactly easy, but... pleasant. Comfortable.

“No,” he answered, trying to not sound too eager or too desperate. “You can stay.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean sat back in his chair, a smug smile on his lips. “Besides, I have to get to know you better since all my friends are getting married.”

“Are they?”

“They are. Ever since Sam proposed to Eileen, they’ve had this weird wedding fever...”

* * *

“AND THEN?!” an avid choir of seven voices exclaimed.

“And then – we spent the rest of the evening talking,” Castiel confessed, failing to completely bite back a smile.

Castiel loved their Sunday breakfasts. It was the only morning in the week when they all had a day off (or didn’t have to go to school, in Jack’s, Kaia’s and Claire’s cases). They all sat around the suddenly crowded kitchen table in their pyjamas, ate the food Gabriel (the house’s best cook) prepared for them, and told each what they had been up to during the week.

Castiel usually didn’t have much to say, unless he had been to a particularly eventful wedding or had met a strange client or two at the shop. Instead, Gabriel told grandiloquent tales of a prank he had successfully pulled off (if a prank ever failed, he never told them), Balthazar spoke of his conquests and his shenanigans, Rowena recounted the craziness she was confronted with at work and the latest news of her son Crowley, Meg told them stories about the resident home she worked at (they were either gory or hilarious, there was no in-between), Claire and Kaia spoke of high school mischief, and Jack asked embarrassing questions (the Talk in particular had been a rather unique morning). But Castiel never had much to say.

This Sunday, however... well, he had Dean to talk about. Garth and Bess’ wedding had taken place on Friday, and he hadn’t had the time to tell his family about it on Saturday.

“You _talked_?” Rowena asked, elated.

“You _talked_?” Balthazar complained with a disgusted frown.

“You didn’t do anything else?” Gabriel enquired as he handed them a plate full of bacon. “Like, I don’t know, sneaking out and doing the dirty in the woods?”

“People don’t know what’s good,” Balthazar sighed dejectedly. “Hey, don’t take all the bacon!”

“You don’t even eat pork!” Kaia protested.

“I’m trying to be fair to my pork-eating friends!”

“No, you’re trying to steal some for the dog, don’t lie—”

“He deserves the world and you _don’t_ , young girl!”

“What did you _say_?”

“I’m not sure dogs should eat bacon,” Rowena said. “Don’t kill our poor boy, Bal!”

“They can, if it's an _occasional_ treat. Do you have no trust in me at all?”

“The answer is no,” Claire said drily.

“What did you and Dean talk about?” Jack said, turning to Castiel.

Everyone’s attention focused back on Castiel. Meg and Gabriel even stopped their ferocious fork battle to listen.

“We talked about... a little of everything, I guess,” Castiel explained, using his fork to play with his omelette. It reminded him of Friday night, when he had toyed with his slice of wedding cake in the very same way, as he told Dean about photography, and stars and storms and bees and flowers. Dean hadn’t looked bored and he hadn’t laughed, as Castiel had feared he would; instead, he looked interested. Engrossed, even. “Our families, our lives, our careers.”

“So, nothing important,” Claire decided.

“Oh, young love, there is a lot to be said about silly little conversations,” Rowena said. “How many good marriages have started because two people started talking about the weather?”

“But... nothing happened?” Gabriel checked. “Did he ask for your number? Did _you_ ask for his? Did he invite you to go out? Did he say he liked you? Anything at all?”

Castiel looked down. “No. No, nothing like that happened. We just... talked.”

It wasn’t as if the conversation had been uninteresting, either. Sure, it wasn’t a serious discussion or even a groundbreaking one, but it had been one of the best talks of Castiel’s life – even if, admittedly, his social life was a little lacklustre.

He had liked it nevertheless. There was something about the simplicity and the easiness of it all that moved him more than big gestures ever could – something that made his heart beat faster than a grand gesture or a splendid confession. It was in the little moments – the way Dean spoke fondly of his father figure Bobby and of his job as a mechanic at Bobby’s, in the way Dean laughed and his eyes twinkled when he told Castiel of Garth’s adventures and of Sam’s mishaps when he decided to propose to Eileen. It was in the way Dean listened to him, too, in the way he didn’t seem to mind the oddness that drove others away. As if Castiel was a fascinating riddle, but without making Castiel uncomfortable or self-conscious.

But Castiel didn’t have the words to express what he felt, so he settled for, “It was lovely.” It was a lame word that didn’t quite encompass the whole evening, but if the way his family looked at him was to be trusted, they had caught his meaning.

“ _Love_ ly indeed,” Gabriel whispered.

“My little unicorn,” Meg asked, “are you falling in love with him?”

Castiel looked down, uncertain. He didn’t know how to answer. “Maybe.” He wasn’t in love, not yet – but his stomach fluttered and his heart swelled at the memory of Dean’s voice and smile, and he wanted to see him again, he wanted to turn this silly little crush into love, maybe, if that was allowed.

“Are you going to see each other again?” Jack asked cautiously.

“He said so. He said several of his friends are going to get married soon, so I suppose we’ll meet again.”

“You hope you’ll meet again, you mean,” Meg said, ever astute. He didn’t deny it.

“Next time, ask him to give you his number,” Kaia advised.

“Or ask him for _more_.”

“Bal!”

“Fine, fine. Start with the number, Cassie, and we’ll see how far that takes you.” Balthazar winked.

“Who knows, maybe you two are soulmates,” Jack said with his usual enthusiasm.

“I don’t think it will lead me anywhere,” Castiel said, trying not to sound too bitter or too sad. “And I don’t think we could be soulmates, either.”

“Why not? The boy is as whipped as you are!” Rowena exclaimed.

Castiel knew what he should have said. He should have said, _He doesn’t look at me like that,_ or, _He only came to talk to me because he was bored_ , or, _He wants to be friends, and I’m fine with it_. Instead, what got out of his mouth was, “People like him aren’t interested in people like me.”

“Oh, Castiel, sweetie...” And just like that, Rowena was standing next to him and hugging him as if the world was about to end.

“Stop thinking like that,” Kaia said, joining in the hug immediately.

“You’re the best and we all love you,” Jack added as he joined them.

“If he’s too stupid to see that, he’s not worth your time,” Gabriel chimed in.

“If he breaks your heart I’ll destroy his life,” Meg declared. (Threats were Meg’s way of showing people she loved them.)

Wrapped in the hugs of his entire family, it was easy to forget about all his problems for a few moments and to relish in the warmth and the safety and the love they gave him.

When Castiel went to bed that night, though, he couldn’t help but remember it all as he stood bare-chested in front of his mirror, his soulmark staring right at him like a taunting from Destiny.

Castiel still had a very vivid memory of when his soulmark had appeared. They appeared randomly – Meg still didn’t have hers, while Kaia’s had appeared when she was two, for instance. It came like thunder, without a reason and without a warning save for a burning sensation where the mark showed up.

He had been living in the streets at the time, along with Meg and Balthazar. It was a few weeks after they had met, three homeless teenagers finding shelter in the same abandoned building in a winter storm. It would still be a few weeks before they met Gabriel and he invited them to live with him, a few months before they met Rowena who was as lost as they all were and she joined them, and several years before Claire, Jack and Kaia joined the family.

He still remembered the burn – it was so cold that he had confused it for warmth and had rejoiced in it, thinking it meant he was finally found, that his mother’s God was real and had listened to his prayers. Instead, what he had gotten was the mark. A heart over his own beating heart, folded in between two angel’s wings that protected it from hurt, and strange markings – he had only learnt years later that they were written in an obscure language and meant “Family, need, love.”

They said that the closer the mark was to your heart, the greater your love story would be, and the more intricate and detailed it was, the more passionate the love would be.

Castiel had wanted home and safety, and at the time, what he had had was a promise of future passion and everlasting love, something that felt too big and too beautiful and too terrifying for him, something that looked like a mistake on his skin.

At the time, he had thought that if soulmates existed, they were either a lie or an empty promise. Now that he finally had the family and the love he had so sorely needed... Well, sometimes, he wondered about the face of this impossible love that was promised to him. Sometimes, he thought about the happy faces of the soulmates he had photographed over time. And sometimes, the mark on his heart stopped looking so terrifying. 


	3. Third wedding - Adam + Michael

[ ](https://imgur.com/MOtkp3d)

_Michael and Adam are proud to announce their wedding  
02/11/2017_   
_We would be honoured if you would join us on this special day._   
_Formal invitation to follow._

* * *

They knew about the Adam Milligan/Michael Milton wedding two months before it took place.

More precisely, they knew that Dean would be there around that time.

“Adam Milligan is Dean’s brother?” Castiel inquired. “He never told me about him – the way he talks about his family, I thought that Sam was his only family...”

“Well, you two don’t know each other that well,” Meg noticed drily.

“ _Yet_ ,” Claire rectified, throwing a garland at her. It got stuck in Meg’s hair and Claire badly concealed a laugh.

It was December, and it was the day of the Big Decoration Time, as they called it in true poetic fashion. A Christmas tree stooped over like a vodka aunt past her prime, straining under the weight of numerous, gaudy garlands and one lone bulb. It stood at one end of the living room, faced with a Yule Altar with all the candles untouched for now, as were the candles of the Menorah. It was too early to drunkenly set fire to their mismatched furniture with the fiery aspects of celebrations, after all. The log they would burn on Yuletide was standing next to the chimney, tripping everyone like a gleeful little Grinch; the garlands and the Hanukkah string lights were tangled together _again_. Jack and Gabriel were fighting against a Gordian knot of epic proportions, they had all gotten distracted by a ferocious dreidel tournament, they were all a little tipsy with eggnog, and the house smelled of latkes, gingerbread and the pine needles incense Rowena had used to cleanse the house’s atmosphere. Kaia’s phone was playing Christmas carols, Hanukkah songs, Pagan Yule Carols, pop music, and Céline Dion (that was Meg’s addition; she claimed she loved the Canadian singer but they all knew that she was only messing with Bal). It was the best time of the year.

“They’re half-brothers,” Rowena cleared up dismissively. “What matters is that he came with Adam yesterday to help out. He will be there at the wedding, Castiel honey. I must mention,” she added with a mischievous smile, “that you are to be at this wedding too.”

“You did it on purpose,” Castiel accused.

“Me? I would _never_ do such a thing,” she said with an outraged expression. It fooled no one. “It is true that you _might_ have had another wedding booked that day, but I think your talents would be best used for this wedding. Unless, of course, you would rather attend the other wedding—” she said airily.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he admitted. He couldn’t even hide a half-smile.

Of course, it was stupid of him to want to see Dean that badly given that Dean probably wasn’t interested, but he was sure that there was a beautiful friendship in the making between Dean and he, even if there was nothing else – and friendships were one of the best joys of life.

“Make good use of this opportunity,” Gabriel advised. “Flirt with him, dance with him, ask him for his number, tell him you’re interested!”

“I don’t know how to flirt,” Castiel answered.

“Just be your usual charming self, that should be enough,” Rowena said.

“Just kiss him, duh,” Meg said.

“Compliment him,” Claire suggested.

“Ask for a naked photo session,” Bal winked. (Castiel _knew_ Bal would mention that at some point.)

“Just ask him to give you his number and tell him that you’d love to spend time with him outside of all these weddings,” Kaia shrugged.

“That’s not very straightforward,” Gabriel complained.

“No, but that’s something Castiel can do.”

“If love really takes time as Auntie Rowena says, then it’s perfect!” Jack concluded.

They looked at Castiel expectantly.

“I’ll try,” he said. “I’m not... good with these things.”

“We know, Cassie,” Gabriel said. “But, y’know, if he’s interested he’ll be okay with that.”

“And you can seduce him if he’s not,” Meg added.

“If you really think I can do it... then I’ll try,” Castiel mused.

* * *

“Hey, Cas!” Dean’s voice boomed in the empty church backyard, a striking contrast with the almost holy silence.

“Hello, Dean. I didn’t hear you there,” Castiel saluted back. Dean’s footsteps had been silent in the snow.

He was looking as gorgeous as always – his cheeks were slightly rosy with the cold and snowflakes were lying on his eyelashes and his thick dark blue coat, as if they had finally found a warm place to rest – Cas really understood that sentiment.

“Do you mind if I call you Cas?” Dean asked. He looked anxious. “Castiel is a beautiful name, don’t doubt it, but, you know – I like nicknames—”

Castiel looked up at the church in front of them. The stained glass window stared back at him – a beautiful rosary that featured the archangel Michael fighting Satan. How fitting, then, that today they had witnessed a different Michael commit to love rather than to fight. He should get a photo of the happy couple under that window again. All he could think of was his mother’s voice – _I have given you an angel’s name; ‘iel’ means God, because you are to be one of God’s faithful servants, and God will always be with you wherever you go..._ He remembered, too, how quickly those words had soured when he was deemed not good enough for God.

And suddenly, a perfect stranger was removing God’s looming shadow from his name. “I don’t mind it at all. I like it very much.”

“Great.” Dean tapped his feet on the floor. “Waiting for Adam and Michael to stop talking to the priest, huh?”

“I’m ready to photograph them once they’re out.” Castiel looked around. “Usually, the guests are out and waiting for the newlyweds to come out too, but I suppose it’s a little bit too cold.” He frowned. “Did you come out in the cold to talk to me?”

Was it foolish to hope that the answer would be ‘yes’? Surely there was no joy in the prospect of Dean catching a cold only to talk to him...

“Yeah,” Dean admitted, looking away and stuffing his hands in his coat. “I thought you might be lonely out here.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said softly. In the cold and the silence, his whisper said more than it should have; it said, _only my family cares for me that much, you don’t know how much it means that you do too._ Dean’s smile was tight but sincere, as if he knew what Castiel meant, as if he understood.

The silence between them was comfortable as Castiel showed his photos to Dean – Adam and Michael saying yes, the colors of the stained windows glimmering on their cheeks as they exchanged rings and vows and kisses.

“This was a beautiful ceremony,” Castiel said after some time. “I liked it. And Adam and Michael look very happy together.”

“They are,” Dean answered. “Dad would probably roll over in his grave if he saw one of his kids marrying a man, and not his soulmate at that, but hey—”

“Is that a problem?” Castiel asked, his voice low, fear and anxiety prickling at his skin. He set his jaw and squared his shoulders.

Was Dean one of _those_ people, like his mother?

“What? No! Not at all!” Dean raised his hands in front of him and shook his head with vehemence. “No, you don’t get it. It’s just that my dad was – well, he had very strong ideas, you see?” He chuckled – but there was no humour in it, and Castiel’s heart sank a little. “Sometimes I _want_ him to roll over in his grave, you know? It’s kinda funny that none of his three sons ended up obeying his sacred rules about love.”

Castiel frowned. Adam and Sam had both married someone who wasn’t their soulmate... So did it mean that Dean...?

His heart skipped a beat.

Was Dean implying that he was with someone who wasn’t his soulmate either? (Was he even single? Cas had no idea.) Or... was he implying that he was interested in men?

If it was subtext, it was lost on him. He was better at understanding Spanish (a language he didn’t even speak) than he was at understanding subtext.

“Thanks for telling off that dude, by the way,” Dean said, cutting him off in his musings. “You know. The Pro-Destiny one.”

Castiel blushed. It wasn’t exactly what his family had advised him to do in order to flirt with Dean. But this horrible man had been there – one of Michael’s colleagues, probably –, ranting aloud about how people were only supposed to marry their soulmates and that Adam and Michael’s wedding was unnatural, and – well, Castiel had snapped. And when he had turned on his heels, all he had seen was Dean, his mouth open wide in either horror or awe. Castiel still didn’t know what to make of it.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “It wasn’t my place—”

“Cas, buddy, it was!” Dean laughed. “This fucker really deserved that. And the way you talked to him, and you looked at him – man, that was _impressive_.” He sounded excited and a little bit breathless, as if he was really passionate about the topic.

“Thank you,” Castiel muttered, embarrassed. “He was being an assbutt, I suppose it was… normal for me to do it.”

“An _assbutt_? Never heard that one.”

Dean was smiling.

“You know,” Dean said after a beat, “it’s really cool that you do all kindsa weddings. Christian, Pagan, all that—”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Cas answered, perplexed.

“Well, not everybody does. I guess we’re lucky we found you. And, um, and Rowena too, of course,” he hurried to add. “She’s great. Scary, but great. And she does all kindsa stuff, no problem.”

Castiel nodded. “We come from a multicultural family, you know. Jack, Claire and I grew up in Christian families, but Rowena is a Wiccan, Gabriel worships the Norse deities, so he’s Pagan, Balthazar is Jewish, and Kaia – Kaia’s father was a Catholic and her mother was a Navajo. And Meg says she’s a Satanist, but I _think_ it’s a joke.” Dean chuckled. “We practice a mix of all religions, so it’s natural for Rowena and I to do all kinds of weddings too. We’re familiar with that.”

It was what Castiel loved best about their house. He loved coming home and touching the mezuzah on their doorway. He loved the smell of the candles from Gabriel’s shrine and Rowena’s altar (and the many talismans and crystals lying around the house), and to contribute to them with whatever he found in nature during his lone photography sessions. He loved that Kaia’s handmade dreamcatcher hung above his bed watching over him when he was most vulnerable, and that in his pillow was a charm Rowena made him to sleep better – it smelled like lavender and chamomile and peppermint, it smelled like home.

“That’s a strange family,” Dean said. “Sounds like a nice one, though.”

“It is,” Castiel nodded. “We’re not... related, you know? We found each other. Castaway kids, runaway kids, orphans, foster kids, lost adults – We don’t work like families usually do, I think, but I don’t mind. I like it, actually.”

Dean nodded. “I think I get it. For a long time, my family was just Dad and Sam and I, y’know? But then – I met people, I guess.” He looked wistful. Then he said, very slowly, almost tentatively, “And you do both soulmates and non-soulmates weddings, too. People usually have... strong opinions about that.”

“They do. Rowena only cares about love – and business, too. She made it her objective when she started her business: to provide a beautiful wedding to everyone, even the ones who don’t fit with the rest of society.”

“And you?” Dean asked. His tone was abrupt, but his voice was oddly soft and cautious at the same time. “What do you think about... soulmates?”

That wasn’t a question Castiel had expected. But if his family were right and Dean _was_ interested, then surely it was the sort of question you asked first before trying anything, wasn’t it? “I don’t know,” he answered cautiously. “I’m not sure I believe in destiny – or rather, I’m not sure I want destiny to guide my life. I want to make my own choices. I think – I think love doesn’t have to be written in the stars or inked into your skin to be real and to change your life. Sometimes it is, and sometimes... it’s not. I don’t know.”

Dean breathed in, deeply. “I think soulmates are bullshit.”

“Oh?”

“See Michael and Adam? They’re not soulmates. But the way they look at each other? The way Michael changed after meeting Adam and the way Adam found himself after finding him? _That’s_ true love. Sam and Eileen, too. Sam’s soulmate – Jess – she died when they were teens, and he thought he’d never find love again, but here it is.” He shook his head. “They say there’s no love like a soulmate’s love, but I don’t see a difference between Sam and Eileen and Garth and Bess. My dad loved my mom and her death destroyed him, but he still got a girl on the side and got a kid with her, you know?”

Castiel nodded. “I think... I think every love story is different. Some were meant to be and some are beautiful accidents. Sometimes destiny works out and sometimes we write our own.”

Dean looked straight at him then. “ _You_ get it. I don’t want someone who is perfect for me, you know? I want someone who will _know_ me, you see? I want someone who’ll choose me after seeing the good and the bad, not someone who will want me only because destiny said it was to be. I don’t want someone expecting this perfect boyfriend and being disappointed when they see what a mess I am. I want someone who is _it_ for me, not because of a soulmark, but because everytime I see them I love them a little more.

“I don’t want my friggin’ soulmate. I wish I didn’t even have one. I wish it was just _me_ falling in love, naturally.” He blinked, then he looked away. “Hum. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have unloaded on you. It’s just – people’ve been pestering me about soulmates recently, and...”

Castiel realised that this had been the speech of a man who had found someone he could confide in, the speech of a man who had a lot to say but couldn’t say it till now. And Cas felt oddly flattered that Dean trusted him with his feelings on such a delicate matter, that he was able to open up to him, that he allowed this _thing_ between them to be more than a mere chance encounter and friendship of circumstance.

He felt himself fall a little in love at that moment, for that man who wanted to defy destiny and who wanted to _choose_ to love someone, to choose to give himself entirely instead of being forced to. Snow was falling from the sky in a slow, unstoppable course, and the world was frozen and silent and solemn, and Castiel knew that it had finally happened after years of looking in the wrong places, knew that his heart was opening up for another.

So he said, “You want someone who will hold your soul in their hands and fall hopelessly in love with all of it, with all of you, and decide to tether their soul to you and to leave their own mark on you, over all the scars life already left on you. I understand that.”

And just like that, the cracks in Dean’s gaze disappeared as he focused on Castiel again. He smiled, his eyes shining with joy again – beautiful, _beautiful_ inside and out, Castiel’s doom and Castiel’s hope at the same time...

“Cas,” Dean whispered, and there was _something_ in his tone, _something_ in his eyes... Dean’s lips had never looked more attractive, pink and plump and slightly open, and it would be easy to—

“Finally!” a voice boomed from inside the church, and they started.

They had been inching closer to each other, Castiel realised belatedly, and he stepped back just a little. He could have sworn Dean wanted to say something, but he closed his mouth shut as people inside screamed “The grooms! The grooms!”

“Back to work,” Castiel said regretfully, waving his camera. If only they had had more time...

“I’ll see you later,” Dean agreed. “I’m not through with you,” he added with a wink.

Castiel tried – and failed – not to blush.

* * *

When Castiel came home that night, there was nothing to hear but the low whisper of the TV.

He came into the living room to find his family sprawled on the sofa and on the ground in their pyjamas, curled up in warm blankets and fast asleep. He joined them as soon as he changed into his own pajamas.

Jack and Meg were still awake. He curled up next to Jack under the kid’s blanket, twisting his body in all kinds of awkward positions as he joined him on the couch, trying not to wake Claire up. It didn’t prevent her from nuzzling her head on his shoulder.

It was better inside – Jack and Claire tight against him, Meg below him on the ground, watching Kaia snore on Claire’s lap, Rowena hugging Jack tightly, Gabriel and Balthazar fallen on top of one another as if sleep had caught them unawares, and Trickster the dog fast asleep next to Gabriel.

“So?” Meg whispered, turning to Castiel and propping her chin on his knee.

“I asked him to give me his phone number,” Castiel whispered back triumphantly. “And he did.”

“Amazing, love,” Rowena mumbled in her sleep. She couldn’t miss out on juicy news, even asleep.

“That’s great!” Jack said.

“We barely had time to talk, though,” Cas said mournfully. “We had a beautiful conversation after the ceremony, but after that, I only saw him in passing during the party. I couldn’t do what you said – I didn’t have the time to seduce him.”

“I think he’s already seduced, darling,” Meg said, patting his knee. “Don’t doubt yourself. He’s crazy about you, who wouldn’t be?”

“Do you really think he’s interested?”

Meg’s yes was so emphatic it woke Trickster up. He opened one eye, looked at them, sighed and promptly fell back asleep. He was used to their chaotic behaviour, after all.

“Next time you meet? He’ll be yours forever,” Meg said confidently.

“He looked surprised that I asked for his phone number, though. And he didn’t ask me before. I thought there was something, back at the church... but maybe I was wrong and he isn’t interested.”

“Maybe you are both interested but he didn’t dare ask,” Jack suggested solemnly. “Maybe he’s as intimidated as you are?” 

Of course, his sentence might have had more impact if he hadn’t been clutching tight Marvelous Marvin the Talking Teddy, but that was Jack for you: wise beyond his fifteen years of age and behaving like a toddler nonetheless.

“Listen to the kid,” Meg said, slapping his knee playfully. “Your man meat will be yours in no time.”

“What do I do now that I have his phone number?”

“You text him, silly. Or you sext him, depends on what you want.”

“I don’t know how to text. Let alone how to seduce someone by texting.”

“Kaia and Claire will teach you,” Jack promised. “They’ll love it. I’ll help you too! I don’t know a thing about seducing, though.” He looked perplexed, and Castiel was strongly reminded of who he was twelve years ago, when he was the same age.

“Good. Don’t you go and seduce anyone until you’re old enough,” Meg warned. “And you, Clarence, don’t worry either. We have your back.”

“What would I do without you?” Castiel wondered aloud.

“Good thing we’ll never find out,” she said, and then she fell asleep.

Good thing, indeed, he thought fondly as he let sleep wash over him too.


	4. Fourth wedding - Charlie + Dorothy

[ ](https://imgur.com/miKyqym)

_Love always wins bitches!  
Wedding of Charlie & Dorothy_   
_Join us this Aygust 19, 2017_   
_5 PM | Moondoor_   
_Follow the yellow brick road!_

* * *

This wedding was special. More so than any other wedding Castiel had ever intended – and that included the very first wedding he had been hired for.

After all, it would be the first time Castiel would see Dean in six months. It’s not that they didn’t want to see each other – or so Castiel hoped; he really hoped that Dean hadn’t lied when he had said he’d love to go have a drink with him or to spend time together. But they somehow never had the time. Between the birth of Dean’s niece (of whom Castiel had received pictures; she already had her father’s luxuriant hair), their respective jobs, Rowena’s ongoing reconciliation with her son Crowley (or Fergus? Castiel didn’t know anymore) that mobilised their entire family’s support... they never found the time.

The fact that Castiel never _dared_ to ask for it, either, didn’t help.

He had made progress, though. He had learnt the complex science of texting and emojis. He had had conversations with Dean, about their families and their lives and silly little things. Castiel had told Dean about his childhood with his mother Naomi and his absent father, and Dean had told him about his own parents and about the people he held dear; Castiel had sent anecdotes about the weddings he attended and Dean had replied with stories of the strangest clients he’d ever met.

This wedding made Castiel nervous... because this time he was certain that he was in love. They hadn’t seen each other, but they had texted back and forth, a lot. Every single joke he didn’t understand, and every little detail about Dean’s life, and the way Dean spoke to him... How couldn’t he fall helplessly in love?

Everything about him, from his absurd worshipping of his car to the hurt in him that Castiel wanted to soothe, from his passion for classic rock music and his love of plaid shirts, to the way he was always so nice and gentle even if he believed he wasn’t – everything about Dean was precious to Castiel, and he held everything close to his heart like a treasure.

Claire said he had fallen quickly, and that was true: it had come to him like a thunderstorm. Rowena, on the other hand, said that he was taking his sweet time, and that was true as well: it had taken months of talking through texts, months of getting to know Dean, but his little crush had blossomed into something more.

It was frightening; but it was also thrilling, and freeing, somehow.

And Castiel would see Dean in person again, after six months. It was... a lot. It was too much, because now Castiel no longer harboured a silly crush, he was in love with the man. Dean would be able to see it on his face, probably. What if Dean didn’t reciprocate?

Today was the day Castiel’s heart would be broken or… Dare he hope for the other outcome? It was all or nothing, there was no other outcome.

Actually, there was one – if Dean didn’t see a thing and didn’t reciprocate, and they remained friends for years… Castiel would be able to love him from afar, hoping that maybe one day something would come out of it. Probably not. And if one day he confessed -- after a dozen years, at the very least -- his embarrassment would likely vaporize him out of existence. 

The second reason this wedding was special was because Charlie Bradbury and Dorothy Baum were very special people too, apparently.

The theme of the wedding was LARPing – role play, “but not of the sexy kind,” Balthazar had mentioned with regret (he had wanted to tag along as Castiel’s ‘assistant’ until he had learned the hard truth). The LARPing itself, however, had no theme except “have fun”.

One of the brides, Charlie, had come into the ceremony in full warrior queen garb: her dress was made of an elaborate golden plate above the waist and a fluid, crimson cloth under the waist. A sword was hanging by her side, and her wife had put a crown on her head after putting the ring on her finger. Dorothy was wearing a tuxedo, except that it was made out of leather, and her vows had included a lot of references to _The Wizard of Oz_ for some reason. The décor was _Lord of the Rings_ -themed, the officiant had been dressed as a Stormtrooper, and if Castiel was right, the vows that were said during the ceremony were similar to wedding vows in _Game of Thrones_.

Every guest had been told to come in disguise. So far, Castiel had met Dumbledore and Voldemort (who were apparently a couple now), Darth Vader, Princess Leia, Arwen, Indiana Jones, one monster of Frankenstein, two Draculas, an angel, the Terminator, Jon Snow, John McClane, Sherlock Holmes and six people who had come in a regular suit and had gratefully taken the fake FBI badges handed at the entrance to pretend that they _had_ come in as FBI agents and it wasn’t their fault if other people had had the same idea.

(There was also that one man who had really chosen to impersonate a FBI agent. Fortunately, he seemed to find the situation hilarious.)

No wedding was ever boring (love never was), but this one was one of a kind.

Castiel was mostly clueless about popular culture, and without his family’s love for it he wouldn’t have known who was disguised as what. Nevertheless, he now had very unique pictures in his camera.

He still hadn’t met Dean, though.

He was walking from tent to tent and from feast table to feast table, trying to photograph every funny scene he saw (was this man LARPing as _Jesus_? If he had had his mother’s number, he might have sent her a photo and the comment ‘Contrary to your expectations, I have found Jesus and you still haven’t’). But he was also trying to find Dean. There were so many people that he barely knew where to look.

Would he even know it if he was looking at Dean? Dean had told him he’d be there, but he hadn’t told him what he would dress up as. What if he was the Chewbacca Cas had just met? Or perhaps that Star Trek fellow he didn’t know the name of – the one with the pointy ears? He had only seen the fellow’s back, who could know for sure that it wasn’t Dean?

As Castiel was thinking that, someone tapped on his shoulder lightly, and Dean’s voice rang in his ear. “Heya, Cas!”

Castiel turned. “Hello, Dean.” He was smiling even before he beheld Dean’s face.

Dean was as handsome as always, but this time there was a particular joy on his face. Castiel could tell that Dean _loved_ this wedding (he had mentioned in a text that LARPing was one of his guilty pleasures, and that it was how he’d met Charlie), but also that he was happy to see Castiel. Maybe it was wishful thinking – but somehow, Castiel didn’t think he was mistaken.

“You’re – you’re a cow-boy.” That must have been one of Castiel’s lamest lines. In his defense, Dean looked particularly attractive in this outfit of his. The hat – the leather jacket – the pants – even the boots, and the star-shaped belt buckle...

He should stop staring.

“Ready to be my Huckleberry?” Dean asked, tipping his hat with a wink.

“I – I don’t understand that reference. What does that mean?”

Dean’s smile wavered just a little. “Nothing, don’t worry. I’ll have to show you _Tombstone_.”

“The city?”

“No, the _movie_. I – It doesn’t matter. It was just a joke.” Dean chuckled. “What I mean is – Ain’t no rodeo clown that can keep me off you. If you see what I mean.”

Castiel didn’t, but he didn’t want to ruin Dean’s fun. “It really suits you,” he said earnestly instead.

Dean’s smile was radiant. “Thanks. Glad you like it. And you – a doctor, huh?”

Castiel looked down at his white coat and the stethoscope thrown around his neck. “I learned about the LARPing thing a little late. I didn’t have the time to go and buy a good disguise, so Meg stole those from the resident home she works in.”

“Wait, Meg’s a doctor?”

“A nurse, actually.”

“A nurse? I wouldn’t have pegged her as one, from what you told me.”

“She has a very well hidden soft side. Her patients love her, actually.”

“Strange.”

“We were surprised too. We shouldn’t have been, though.”

“Don’t worry about your dress-up, anyway,” Dean said, brushing a speck of dust off Castiel’s shoulder. It sent electric shivers down his spine. “I really like doctors. And you look really good.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. He hoped Dean couldn’t see how flustered the compliment and their proximity made him.

They started to walk, wandering between the tents and the people, Castiel stopping from time to time to take a picture.

“I’m glad Charlie and Dorothy are married,” Dean said. “I told you Charlie was like a little sister to me, right?”

“You mentioned it, yes.” Castiel threw him a sideways glance. “What you _didn’t_ mention was the wedding invite crisis.”

Dean roared with laughter. “You heard about it?”

“Rowena vented about it for days, Dean. _Days_. I know all there is to know and more.”

“I can’t believe they went to war about a typo,” Dean snorted.

“You don’t know Rowena. Everything has to be perfect.”

“I can’t understand why Rowena wanted to have them remade,” Dean shook his head fondly. “Or why she didn’t like them, either.

Castiel was laughing too, now. “Maybe Rowena wouldn’t have been so annoyed if Charlie hadn’t insisted on writing the word ‘bitches’ on the invite.”

“Oh, so you’re siding with Rowena now?”

“I probably should, but it was the funniest thing that ever happened in our house.” Castiel bit back a smile. “Gabe and Bal might have made a remix video out of it—”

“You need to send it to me.” Dean stopped in his tracks. “Seriously. Send it to me, Cas.”

“I wouldn’t betray Rowena like that.”

“Gabriel and Balthazar need an audience though.”

“Fine, I’ll send it to you.”

“You’re the best.”

Castiel only realised they had been standing there, staring into each other’s eyes, when a cheerful “hi, bitches!” boomed near them.

“Speak of the devil. Hello, Princess Bride,” Dean said as he hugged Charlie.

“I’m not the Princess Bride,” she replied, punching him in the arm. “Not the devil either.”

“You’re a princess and you’re a bride, and you’re pretty devilish sometimes.”

“I think she is a warrior queen,” Castiel mused.

Charlie turned to him, beaming. “See, Dean? _He_ gets it.”

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing, because that was probably something she would like.

Charlie lit up even more – Castiel didn’t think it was even possible, yet here she was.

“Whoa, is it who I think it is?” she said to Dean. “You’re Castiel!” And she punched him in the arm too. “I’ve heard _all_ about you! I knew you seemed dreamy. I thought you’d be shorter.” She smiled. “I think we’re going to be best friends!”

“Charlie—” Dean said through his teeth, looking very red in the face.

“Don’t mind him, I’m embarrassing him in true little sister fashion,” Charlie said with glee. “What were you two talking about?”

“About you, actually,” Castiel. “And your conflict with Rowena.

“Ooooh. Is Rowena over her defeat yet?”

“I think she’ll never forgive you,” Castiel answered, which made Charlie laugh. “I think she likes you, though.”

“Ah, the beginnings of a true friendship. Enemies to friends, twenty thousand words, lots of angst but also fluff! That’s the real thing.”

“What is she saying?” Castiel whispered to Dean.

“I’m not sure,” was the answer.

“That typo was really funny, I don’t understand why she didn’t like it,” Charlie went on. “‘Aygust’ instead of ‘August’... It spells “gay UST” if you scramble the letters, that’s funny! I know you liked it,” she said, giving Dean’s shoulder a swat. “When he saw it in his mailbox and opened it, he laughed so much he fell off his chair.”

Castiel couldn’t help smiling either. “It _is_ funny.”

“And hopefully, some people will take the hint and solve their own gay UST. If you catch my meaning,” Charlie said, winking.

Castiel would have loved nothing more than to solve his gay UST with Dean, but he wasn’t even sure Dean felt the tension. He didn’t say a thing, opting to look at Dean closely instead. But Dean didn’t say anything either.

That didn’t bode well.

“Look at the two of you!” she said. “A doctor and a cowboy – you look almost as cute as Dorothy and me!” She winked at Dean. “You and cowboys, huh?”

Dean glanced at Castiel. “You know what they say. ‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy.’”

“Is it something people say?” Castiel wondered. “I have never heard it before.”

Charlie’s face was commiserating for a reason he couldn’t fathom. “Well, I wish you the best of luck.”

“Me too,” Dean said under his breath.

“Actually, Dean, could you come with me for a few seconds?” she said suddenly.

“Um, yeah – okay – Cas, you—”

“I’ll wait here, if you want,” Castiel suggested.

“Good. Nice. Thanks. See ya.”

Castiel was looking through the pictures on his camera when a familiar voice made him start.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our little Cassie!”

Gabriel stood behind him, a lollipop stuck in his mouth and a mischievous smile on his lips. He was wearing a red top hat, a purple velvet jacket and a dotted shirt with a yellow bow.

“Did you dress up? What are you even dressed up as?”

“I’m Willy Wonka, kiddo,” Gabriel answered, looking offended. “The King of Candy?”

“The Candyman?”

“No, not the Candyman, the owner of the Chocolate Factory – you know what, I’ll show you the movie.”

“So many people want to show me so many movies. Why are you here? Are you spying on me?”

“I wouldn’t,” Gabriel protested in a fashion that was eerily reminiscent of the time Rowena had denied sending Castiel to the Adam/Michael wedding on purpose. “Actually, some pastries hadn’t been delivered yet, and I thought maybe I’d come out here and help you out or something.” He winked. “I saw you with the cowboy. Dean, right?”

“Yes, it’s him.”

“He’s hot. Congrats.”

“Don’t congratulate me. Nothing is – certain yet. I’m not sure he likes me,” Cas confessed.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Good thing I came over. Methinks you need some help.”

“Perhaps,” Castiel admitted.

Everyone had helped him during those months of texting – giving him some self-confidence, showing him how to text and what emojis meant, deciphering some of Dean’s more obscure use of emojis. The words in the texts were Castiel’s, always – but he couldn’t have done it without them all.

Even _Crowley_ had participated. Castiel didn’t even know how he knew about Dean. His texts were either gross or helpful with no in-between, and ranged from advice on how to send nudes to a list of classics of rock music to understand Dean a little bit better (and Dean had been ecstatic about that – he hadn’t even been bothered that Castiel had had to get information about rock music, he had simply seemed elated that Castiel had looked for it in the first place).

He couldn’t have done any of it without his family (and without a small percentage of Crowley’s advice). Maybe Gabriel’s advice could be useful.

“So, you don’t think he likes you,” Gabriel said, sitting on a nearby table. “Let’s see. He’s a flirt, if I remember correctly?”

“I think so,” Castiel said, remembering how Dean had flirted with every woman he had crossed paths at the first wedding they had met.

“Has he flirted with anyone today? Anyone that isn’t you, I mean?”

Castiel had to think about it. “I don’t think he did, no,” he said softly. “He was... very focused on our conversation.”

“He’s interested in you, then,” Gabriel said. “Trust me, I’m a compulsive flirt. I can’t help doing it, that’s what gives me confidence when I feel like shit. If your pretty boy is a flirt and he ain’t flirting because he can’t keep his eyes off you, then he’s interested.”

“I think we’re just good friends.”

“Nah, I saw the way he looked at you. And the way he texted you. Telling you all that stuff about him and his family? Trusting you with feelings when he’s bad at them because he’s a repressed Daddy’s boy? Texting you about random stuff because he thought that’d make you smile? Cassie, he’s _whipped_. I’m proud of you, actually. That’s a really good job.”

Gabriel’s smile was just a shade shy of bitter. Castiel couldn’t help but feel sad for him – every time Gabriel thought he had found love, it escaped him. That time with Kali had hurt especially hard. Castiel thought sometimes that there might be something between Gabriel and Rowena... but if there was, they never talked about it.

Now was not the moment to speak of Gabriel’s love life, though. If Gabriel didn’t talk about it openly, then Castiel had no right to press the matter.

“I don’t think he can like me, Gabriel,” Castiel insisted, looking around to make sure that no one could hear them.

“Why not? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Believe in yourself a little, kiddo.” Gabriel patted his back.

“I’m not sure he is interested in men. I know he’s single—”

“Why _in hell_ would he have mentioned that he’s single if he wasn’t interested?” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Read the signals, Cassie.”

“It was in a text conversation, people mention a lot of unprompted and unrelated things in text conversations.”

“Weird thing to mention, still.”

“As I said, we’re not even sure he likes men.”

“Did he laugh at the gay UST joke?” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows.

“He did,” Castiel mused. “He fell off his chair when he received the—Wait.” A thought was niggling at the back of his brain. “The wedding invitation disaster. If I remember correctly, the compromise was that the straight and tight-laced guests would receive the invite with the proper spelling, and the brides’ LGBTQ+ friends would receive the one with the typo... right?” Hope dripped off the last whispered word.

“And he received the invite with the typo?” Gabriel perked up.

“He did.” Castiel couldn’t help a smile from blossoming on his lips. “He received the gay invitation.”

“Amazeballs!” Gabriel exclaimed. “Problem solved. Dean Winchester is somewhere on the LGBTQ+ spectrum.”

“But where on that spectrum? In the gay spectrum? The trans spectrum? The ace spectrum? Just because he’s on the spectrum doesn’t mean he likes men— And anyway, I’m not his type. We don’t have the same interests—”

“Doesn’t prevent you from liking him.”

“I don’t even understand some of his jokes and his references.”

“Doesn’t prevent you from finding him funny, am I right?” Gabriel winked at him. “And that doesn’t prevent _us_ from loving _you_ , Castiel. Even if you never get my funniest jokes.”

“That’s sweet, Gabe, thank you.”

“Itt’s part of your charm, after all,” Gabriel shrugged.

“He really seemed disappointed that I didn’t understand his jokes, though.”

“Tell me, what jokes did he make? Maybe I can help you with it.”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know. Things about cowboys and rodeos and Huckleberries and _Tombstone_ the movie, not Tombstone the city.”

Gabriel choked on his lollipop. Castiel patiently waited for him to stop coughing, patting his back to help him.

“Are you telling me,” Gabriel panted, his eyes shining with tears, “that he made cowboy jokes to you?”

“He did.”

“Cassie, dude, that’s _so gay_.”

“Is it?”

“There’s nothing straight about _Tombstone_ and spouting cowboy pick-up lines at a guy is so gay it must have killed the precious few straight people at this wedding. What did he say? Exactly. Tell me. Word for word.”

“He said I was his Huckleberry. And that you should ride a cowboy to save a horse, and that no rodeo could keep him off m—oh.” Gabriel was raising his eyebrows at him. “Oh. I – I think I see it.”

Castiel’s throat was very dry all of a sudden. “Those – those are metaphors?”

“Yes, they are. Metaphors about riding, honestly, kiddo, I’m ashamed you didn’t pick up on it.”

“I’m bad at metaphors.”

“As I said, part of your charm. Not every useful when flirting with a hot cowboy, though.” Gabriel patted him on the shoulder. “Those were _pick-up lines_. The lamest I’ve ever heard, but pick-up lines still. I think he must have Googled them – Cassie, kiddo, little bro, that means he looked them up _before_ the wedding because he had a _plan_! You lucky bastard, your man is finally making a move.” Gabriel threw his head back with laughter. “And you didn’t pick up on it, oh dear Odin, that’s the most hilarious shit I’ve ever—”

Of course, that was the moment Dean chose to come back.

“Shut up, he’s coming back,” Castiel hissed, elbowing him.

“Oooh, someone’s got a big crush—”

“I said _shut up_ —”

“I can’t wait to tell the others—”

“Tell the others what?” Dean asked.

He was smiling, and Gabriel was right – he was barely looking at Gabriel, because his entire attention was on Castiel – how come Castiel hadn’t seen it before? Those green eyes didn’t leave for one moment, and the way they were looking at him...

Dean’s strange jokes were pick-up lines, the international expert on lame pick-up lines had said they were... Castiel’s heart was beating hard in his chest like a bird trying to leap out of its nest, dying to get close to Dean, to hug him, kiss him, touch him, and if he was smooth enough, he would be able to do it, that was something that could _happen_...

“Tell our family about this wedding, of course,” Gabriel lied smoothly. “Rowena couldn’t be here – I think she opted out for spite-related reasons, actually – but I know she’s dying to see the results, and the others too.”

“You’re Castiel’s family,” Dean said. Castiel could see it then, the way he focused on Gabriel and stood a little straighter as if to make a good impression – good Lord. “You like candy – you must be Gabriel.”

“That’s all you told him about me?” Gabe complained after high-fiving Dean (instead of the polite handshake Dean had gone for). “Gabe likes candy? That’s all? I thought I had done more legendary things!”

“I also know that you’re a pastry chef, that you made a _Harry Potter_ cake for Charlie and Dorothy that totally _slaps_ , and that you once made your dentist believe you were a vampire to get revenge for the cavities he’d taken care of, and he thought you were an actual vampire and tried to stake you,” Dean indicated.

“Awww, you know all about me! You’re so interested in your in-laws – such a good boyfriend! You chose well, kiddo,” Gabriel added, winking at Castiel.

“ _Gabriel_ —”

“Is that the beginning of the feast?” Gabriel wondered aloud as they heard a gong. “Oooh, time for me to go and take care of the pastries. Adios, muchachos! Have a sweet gay time together!”

And he was gone before Castiel had time to berate him for – well, for being himself.

“Your family is weird,” Dean mused. “I think I like them, though.” He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by Gabriel’s antics or by his innuendos.

“Sorry for talking about them so often,” Cas blushed.

“Don’t be. I’m telling you, I like them.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. Dean had never talked to any of his family – except for Rowena, and Gabriel now – yet he seemed to like them.

He had especially taken to Jack, Kaia and Claire, perhaps because he liked kids (was it strange that Dean had mentioned liking kids? Was that normal text conversation or... flirtatious text conversation?). Or perhaps it was because they had had such hard lives – Jack with his dead mother and abusive father, Kaia with her past drug problems, Claire with her dead family, runaway past, and rebellious behaviour. He had sent Castiel really detailed advice and addresses to help Claire choose her first car, good advice for Jack to stand up to a school bully, and a very warm congratulatory text for Kaia’s achievements in her rehab program. As a consequence, Castiel’s family loved Dean – and Castiel had fallen for him just a little more.

Alright, a _lot_ more.

“I like it a lot when you’re talking about _you_ , though,” Dean added. His voice was barely more than a whisper, and it was a little hoarse, but he was gazing at Cas in spite of the blush spreading across his cheeks, as if he had decided to be more forward but didn’t quite know how to do it and was a little afraid...

Castiel could barely breathe.

He had to be brave on this one, because Dean was there for him to take, it was within his reach if only he was daring enough—

“I’ll have to photograph the feast, but – we can talk later. About what you want. For however long you want.”

He _sucked_ at this.

Dean’s smile was blinding, though, so maybe he didn’t.

“Save me a dance?” he asked.

Castiel’s heart leapt off his chest.

“Consider your dance saved.”

Afterwards, when he was busy photographing the feast as he was paid to do, he kept Dean’s booming laugh tucked close to his heart.

* * *

It was difficult to focus on his work when Dean was _there_ , and when Dean was interested, and when something might _happen_ – might even happen that very night if he was lucky. Castiel’s hands were clammy and he could barely focus.

He couldn’t believe it. Dean _liked_ him.

And he had almost blown it because he didn’t understand metaphors – that was frustrating. He would have to give Gabriel an enormous basket of cookies to thank him properly. (Gabriel was _never_ going to let him forget. He would probably stake a claim on Castiel’s first born or something like that.)

He felt giddy, and nervous, and excited. He met Dean’s gaze several times as he took photos of the various speeches and of the cutting of the cake and of the brides’ first dance together. Dean always seemed to be looking at him. Castiel also nearly dropped his camera into a bowl of punch, but thankfully Gabriel didn’t notice.

After taking a few pictures of people dancing, Castiel found Dean standing next to him. Dean looked confident, but if he looked closely, his smile was ever-so-slightly nervous and he was blushing almost as much as Castiel.

“So – do you wanna – uh – dancing?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said. He slipped his camera around his neck, and almost strangled himself with the stethoscope that was still hanging there.

“Careful, buddy,” Dean laughed. And then he was helping Castiel, his fingers brushing on the sensitive skin of Cas’ neck... and he couldn’t have missed the way Castiel shuddered under his touch...

“Let’s dance!” Dean said then. His smile had grown bigger still, and hope made Castiel’s heart flutter like butterfly wings.

The song that was playing was a catchy one; perhaps that was a good thing they didn’t go for a slow dance immediately.

_I used to think maybe you loved me now, baby, I'm sure  
And I just can't wait 'til the day when you knock on my door_

Castiel tried not to smile at the lyrics. He failed.

Dean gripped his waist with one hand, and laced their fingers together with the other. His skin was warm and he was close, so close – but still not close enough – and they were swaying on the dancefloor.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Castiel confessed.

“Me neither, Cas, me neither.” Dean made him whirl. “Let’s just have fun.”

“I usually don’t dance at weddings, you know. Actually, I don’t dance at all.”

“Oh, so I’m an exception?” Dean asked. His eyes were soft.

“You are,” Castiel admitted. It made Dean laugh. “I had to ice-skate at a wedding once, though.”

“Oh, really? Tell me more.”

They were moving without sync or grace, but Castiel felt good. They were flirting, his feelings were welcome, and he was having fun. This would be a night to remember, and he wanted to remember it all – the stroboscopic lights, the song, the feeling of Dean’s hand in his own and Dean’s other hand on his waist and Dean’s shoulder under his own hand, and the promise of what was to come—

_Now I'm walking on sunshine, whoa  
I'm walking on sunshine, whoa  
I'm walking on sunshine, whoa  
And don't it feel good!_

“The brides had met in an ice-skating competition,” Castiel said. “They were rivals, they fought for years – until they fell in love and went from rivals to wives.”

“That’s a pretty love story.”

“What was less pretty was that they wanted their wedding to happen in a skating rink.”

Dean laughed. “It was cold?”

“It was cold and I didn’t know how to ice-skate.”

“Don’t tell me you fell on your ass.”

“I won’t tell you that, then.”

“But that’s what happened.”

“That’s what happened.”

“Several times?”

“More times than you want to know.”

_I used to think maybe you loved me, now I know that it's true  
And I don't wanna spend my whole life just a-waiting for you  
Now I don't want you back for the weekend  
Not back for a day, no, no, no  
I said, baby, I just want you back  
And I want you to stay_

Dean was laughing; the sound was prettier than the music. “I bet you saw a lot of unique weddings.”

“I think the most unique one was the Chippendale wedding,” Castiel mused.

“The what now?”

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh. “This... very odd couple decided to marry on a whim, and they had Rowena do everything very quickly. They sent in a note saying that they wanted a lot of Chippendales at their wedding.”

“You must be kidding me.”

“Rowena didn’t know them, and they didn’t answer her calls. She didn’t know if they meant Chippendales as in male strippers or Chippendales as in the furniture. They had wanted to marry in a very elegant manor, though, and this demand was included in-between the color theme and the type of wine they wanted, so she guessed they were talking about furniture.”

“It was the strippers.”

“It was the strippers. We had to call Bal and to ask him to find Chippendales as quickly as he could.”

“Why him?”

“Because strippers?”

Dean nodded. “Makes sense.”

“And that is the story of how I found myself among a party of Chippendales.”

_I feel alive, I feel the love, I feel the love that's really real  
I feel alive, I feel the love, I feel the love that's really real  
I'm on sunshine, baby, oh  
Oh yeah, I'm on sunshine, baby, oh_

“I guess the real question is – did you enjoy it?” Dean asked.

“I enjoy time spent with someone special a lot more,” Castiel answered.

Dean brightened.

“‘Someone special’? Like wh—”

They were interrupted by someone who bumped into them.

“Oh, sorry!” a very drunk female voice said. She didn’t sound sorry in the slightest, and she disappeared into the crowd right afterwards.

Dean looked down at his stained shirt. “Did she just pour her cocktail on me?”

“I’m rather sure it was an accident,” Castiel comforted him.

“At least it’s not my most expensive shirt,” Dean mumbled. “I’ll have to change, though. I, uh – I have a spare shirt in my car.” He was looking at Cas expectantly. “Are you – do you still have work to do, or—”

“It is late,” Castiel answered. “I photographed the dance... I think my job here is done.”

“Good.” Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean’s smile. It was _happening_.

“Good.”

It was getting dark and the stars were already shining in the sky, bathing the two of them in their light. The music was diminishing as they walked away from the party. Their walk was peaceful, and silent – but once again, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Castiel had always thought true love was in the way silences were a sort of comfortable peace; you didn’t need to speak, you just enjoyed the other’s presence. He had been right, as he was finding out.

“Here she is,” Dean said as they reached a sleek black car in the parking lot. “My baby. My Impala.”

“She’s beautiful,” Castiel said. He knew nothing about cars, but he knew that this car was important to Dean; it had been his father’s. It was a family legacy of sorts, and for years it had been Dean’s home as he and his father and Sam travelled from town to town, looking for something that could assuage John Winchester’s anger and grief. Castiel couldn’t say if the car was actually beautiful, but Dean’s care and love and what it represented for him made it so. That was what Castiel was looking for in every photograph he ever took: not a subjective kind of beauty, but the real thing, the immortal beauty there was in loving and being loved, that made eyes brighten and smiles blossom.

“It’s nice that you’re pretending to care about cars for my sake,” Dean laughed.

“I do care. This car is yours, and I know what she means for you. That’s what makes her beautiful and important.”

Dean looked at him in such a way in that moment – as if he understood what Castiel wanted to say, as if he _understood,_ as if Cas was important too...

It made Castiel a little bit braver.

“You know, I’m – not great at understanding subtext and metaphors,” he said tentatively.

“I noticed, yeah,” Dean said as he opened the trunk of his car and rummaged through it, looking for his spare shirt. “It’s... kinda cute, I guess.”

The blush on Castiel’s cheeks still burned after all this time, but this time it also made his skin tingle with possibility, because Gabe was right and Dean liked that about him. “Still – I want to be clear... Your jokes, today... Were those pick-up lines?”

Dean went very still for a moment, his back still turned to Castiel. Finally, he turned to Castiel, very slowly, his shirt in his hand, and looking very flushed.

“Well – I mean – I mean yeah. I – uh – I’m not great with words, you know? It took me time to, uh, accept a few things about myself and I’m used to making jokes instead of – of opening up, I guess.” He was looking down. “I know it’s kinda ridiculous,” he laughed.

He turned his back to Castiel again; he was standing a bit hunched, as if he was ashamed. As he removed his leather sleeveless jacket and his shirt to reveal his muscled, toned back, Castiel wanted to reach out, touch the skin, massage the strong shoulders, and tell him it was alright, that he had difficulty with words too, and that he knew what a challenge opening up was for people like them, with parents like theirs; and perhaps, just perhaps, if he was daring enough, he could kiss Dean.

Dean was still going on, though, his voice hushed and shaking as much as his fingers did when he buttoned up his new shirt; Castiel could see the reflection on the window of the Impala. “I shoulda been more forward. I mean... ‘City boys got pickup lines. Country boys got pickup trucks,’ you know? Even if, well, I have an Impala, not a truck. But, yeah. Pick-up lines. Because I kinda like you.”

He turned to Castiel then, his shirt fully buttoned up, a nervous smile dancing on his lips.

But it was too late, because Castiel’s world had crashed and burned. Because he had seen Dean’s reflection on the window.

Because he had seen his soulmark staring back at him as it did when Castiel looked at himself in a mirror – except that this time, it wasn’t on his skin.

The wings – the heart – the markings. Castiel’s mark was over _Dean’s_ heart.

The mark on Castiel’s body was _Dean’s_.

Dean was his soulmate.

Dean was the one destiny had planned for him, the one that was Castiel’s perfect match – no wonder he had fallen so quick, no wonder he had felt something special from the first time—

Dean was his soulmate, and Dean hated soulmates. Dean didn’t want his soulmate. Dean wished he didn’t even have one.

Dean didn’t want him.

Castiel couldn’t breathe.

“I see.” His voice came out strangled. The words were painful.

And he ran away.

* * *

“You’ve come back already?” Bal said as soon as Castiel walked in the living-room. “But Gabriel said in his text that he saw you and Dean l—” He stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw Castiel's face.

“Castiel, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Rowena pressed him.

Claire and Jack ran out of the kitchen, Jack still clenching his box of Crunch Cookie Crunch cereal and Claire with a pen still in her hand – she must have been doing her homework. Meg and Kaia came tumbling down the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Claire insisted.

“Dean is my soulmate.” The words felt unreal. They _were_ unreal. After all these years with this mark on his chest, he had finally found – after all this time spent thinking about Dean and falling in love—

“How do you know? You guys went to second base already?” Balthazar asked, frowning.

“Bal, that’s really not the time,” Meg elbowed him. “What went wrong, angel?”

“You found your soulmate? That’s amazing!” Jack perked up, then scrunched his face in confusion. “Why is that not amazing?”

“He hates the concept of soulmates,” Castiel said. He let himself fall on the couch. He felt beat up; defeated; empty. “He told me he wished he didn’t have one.”

The silence that answered him was deafening in its compassion and its consternation.

“Oh, Clarence,” Meg whispered. Claire took his hand and held it tight. Jack silently handed him his box of Crunch Cookie Crunch.

Well, at least, he wasn’t alone.


	5. Fifth wedding - Jo + Anna

_Meet us under the Chuppah.  
Jo and Anna_   
_November 5, 2017 | 5 PM_   
_More formal invitation to follow._   
_RSVP Rowena at 123-45-67_

* * *

The wedding had been going _so_ well. Probably _too_ well, in hindsight.

Then, Castiel saw Dean.

He would have liked to say that he didn’t duck and try to hide behind a table, but that wouldn’t be true.

Everything had been perfect so far. The whole ceremony had been lovely. He had taken beautiful photos of the wedding procession and gorgeous pictures of the two brides, natural light illuminating their features as they gazed at each other with pure love shining on their faces.

The canopy in particular was one of the most beautiful Castiel had ever seen. He always thought there was poetry in how fragile the whole structure tended to be, yet how solidly it was anchored into the ground – like a promise that even if the winds blew hard and things got tough, love would still stand proud. Jo and Anna’s canopy, though, was especially stunning. The four poles looked like miniature trees dripping with white and pink flowers, and the wind carried their sweet scent – even Castiel could smell them from where he stood. The white silk cloth over Anna’s and Jo’s heads was even personalised, from what Castiel had seen: embroidered inscriptions and a few designs, although he would have to step closer or zoom in on the photos he had taken to see what exactly they represented. For now, he was too busy capturing every moment of the ceremony.

This wedding was, by all means, a success.

Then he looked on his right, for some reason, he didn’t even know why, because he was supposed to be focusing on Jo and Anna getting married... and there was Dean, sitting in one of the rows and smiling.

So, Castiel ducked.

And then he realised that he couldn’t hide, because he was the _wedding photographer_. He had to take the pictures he was hired to take; he couldn’t let the newlyweds start their new life without pictures of the moment it officially began. Dean had probably seen him anyway. Castiel was not going to check, but it was likely he had.

Castiel emerged from his hiding spot just in time to take a picture as Anna and Jo shattered the glass under their feet and the crowd yelled, “Mazel Tov!”

The two brides, their cheeks rosy with happiness, disappeared into the _yichud_ room, a seclusion room where they would break their fast and share a few moments together.

That meant Castiel was now not-busy for a few minutes. He could look to his right again, but he had already decided that was not-okay. He could pretend he was busy, looking through the photos he had taken. Just in case someone was still looking at him. Or if they had just noticed him. It was good to seem busy. He hid behind a nearby tree, hoping that no one would see him, especially random green-eyed men on his right. He feverishly fished out his phone with trembling hands. His family had created a group chat or something, and taught him to use it; on that day, he was thankful they had insisted.

 _Dean is here,_ he typed as quickly as he could. It was a Sunday; no one in his family was at work or at school, so hopefully they would answer.

It had been two months and a half since Charlie and Dorothy’s wedding. Castiel and Dean had not talked ever since. Dean had sent a text that read, _Hey Cas, you okay?_ And, like the coward he was, he hadn’t answered.

He had spent years struggling between thinking that destiny was something you couldn’t change and wanting to fight it; between thinking destiny had good plans for him, and thinking that it revelled in making people miserable. Years spent thinking that the mark on his skin was a cosmic mistake, or a cosmic joke, or that it was hope that something big and beautiful awaited him.

In the end, though, he hadn’t cared about his mark after finding Dean.

Castiel used to live in terror of his mark. He had hated it, sometimes, because he didn’t know what part of him was really _him_ and what part was fashioned for his soulmate’s taste. Yet at some point, Cas had wanted to know whose soul he had been fashioned for. He had wanted to belong. To _be_ someone’s. He hadn’t been fashioned the way his mother wanted him to, and the way society expected him to be.

It had all been very conflicting, to say the least. The mark was something amazing and unachievable and terrifying.

His family had assuaged these questions, a little. His family and he had fashioned each other, and were perfect for each other. They loved him, unconditionally, and he loved them too. And that was enough for him.

But sometimes, he had wondered. If he didn’t belong to his parents and to society, who was he meant for? Who was he perfect for?

And after all these years, he had the answer. The answer was _Dean_. It was the perfect answer to his question and to his prayers. He would have chosen Dean regardless – but to know that destiny had Dean planned for him, after everything that had happened? There was pure happiness in that.

If only Dean had wanted a soulmate... And if only Castiel hadn’t fallen a little in love with Dean for defying fate in the first place, and for wanting to write his own destiny.

It was fitting, in a way. Back when photography had been invented, some people had thought that having their picture taken would capture their soul. There was some truth to it: as a photographer, Castiel always sought to capture the soul of an event, the atmosphere of the instant, the palpable but intangible love, and to make it live forever.

But he just had to go and be contrary in this as well, didn’t he? It was _his_ soul that was captured the first time he saw Dean through the lens of his camera. Dean wanted someone who saw his soul and loved every bit of it, instead of someone for whom his soul had been fashioned. But Dean had captured Castiel’s soul instead, and had ensnared it every time they talked.

And the irony was, they were soulmates. Their souls were meant to sing in unison. Or perhaps destiny hadn’t decided on its own to unite them, perhaps it had heard their souls sing and heard the harmony that could be there.

Because there _was_ a harmony there, Castiel was sure of it.

He _wanted_ to be captured by Dean, to be immortalised in this love. He wanted it to last. And he wanted them to fashion themselves together; to fashion each other a little, to mark each other, to see each other’s soul grow old and still sing together after all this time.

The only trouble was that it wasn’t what Dean wanted.

Castiel looked down at his screen. His family had answered – they always did.

**Rowena** _: Castiel, sweetie, I’m so sorry, I had no idea he would be there!_

**Jack:** _Don’t worry Castiel! I know everything will be okay in the end. You love him and he loves you, everything will work out okay!_

**Claire** : _Castiel, you idiot, you should tell him. Maybe he’ll be fine with you being his soulmate. Maybe he hates soulmates but who knows, maybe he’ll be fine with it once he knows his soulmate is you. Stop being stupid and go tell him and then be cute and gross together or whatever._

**Balthazar** _: Blondie is right, talk to him. He was head over heels with you without even knowing you were his soulmate, there’s a good chance it’ll work out alright._

**Claire** : _Don’t call me Blondie ever again you dipshit._

**Meg:** _Listen, if he doesn’t want you just because you’re his soulmate then he’s an idiot and he doesn’t deserve you. Tell him, you’ll regret it forever if you don’t._

**Meg:** _Also, I’ll break his pretty face if he’s mean to you._

**Gabriel:** _I’m pretty sure he said he didn’t want to meet his soulmate because he didn’t think you were his and he wanted your ass. Literally. Can’t blame him._

**Rowena:** _Gabe, you’re being gross again. Castiel, sweetie pie, I understand why you’re worried, but I think you should tell him. You can’t know what he really wants unless you ask him._

**Kaia:** _Go for it! You can do it. You have to tell him or he’ll never know why you ran away from him. And you’ll never know if it could have worked out. It can still work out!_

**Jack** _: I have faith in you!!!_

Castiel pocketed his phone. They were right, and he didn’t like it.

What if Dean stopped being interested because Castiel was his soulmate? What if he thought their chemistry was only due to destiny, when he hated destiny?

*

The digital pep talk didn’t prevent him from avoiding Dean during the rest of the wedding. He was _working_ , after all. Work was important. Very important. The most important thing in the world, actually. Castiel was a professional. Work came before everything else and that included Dean Winchester and his cute smiles and his cuter dimples. God, the dimples were just plain unfair.

He focused all his remaining brain cells on the framing of the photos and on finding the perfect lighting. He could say that the photos he took of the dances were some of his best - especially his pictures of the Hora. He had focused his entire being on this dance. There was something comforting in watching people as they formed a circle and danced, stepping forward from one foot to another and circling in a rhythm. The brides’ laughs as they were lifted on their chairs, watching their loved ones dance around them… The pure joy in those laughs was cheerful enough to distract Castiel from his pathetic, unimportant problems. There was beauty in love and community and enjoying the moment, after all.

And now his job here was done, and, well, he just had to go home. He would talk to Dean the next day. Or, no, the next day was a Monday, Dean was busy on Mondays, he would wait until the next weekend – but Cas had two weddings to work at, perhaps that would have to wait until later still, until—

“Cas?”

It was Dean’s voice. Behind him.

_Oh, shit._

Well. It would happen _now_. Unless Castiel sprinted – but that would be pathetic. Still, he thought about it for a solid five seconds before he sighed and turned on his heels.

Dean was barely looking at him. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and he was slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“It’s been – uh – it’s been a while.” Dean’s voice was uncertain, even more so than the time he had confided his hatred of soulmarks to Castiel in the courtyard of a church.

“Yes.” Castiel’s mouth was too dry; no other words would come out.

“Can we – can we talk? Please? It won’t be long.”

Castiel didn’t want to talk. Or maybe he wanted to. He didn’t know. “Fine.”

“We should—” Dean gestured towards the window, presumably to indicate that they should talk about this outside.

“Alright.”

And soon enough – too soon for Castiel’s taste – they were outside, standing in front of one another. The night was dark, the chill settling in his bones and prickling on his skin, far away from the warm tingles he was used to feeling when he was with Dean, especially at the last wedding he had been to.

Who was he kidding; of course the warm tingles were still there, because it was _Dean_. But they were tainted by the sharp needles of anxiety.

“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean said. He was rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the other in his pocket. “I’m sorry I made you feel uneasy. I – I thought you were flirting too, and I thought you were interested. I didn’t realise you weren’t – interested, I mean. And that I was making you feel uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have been – I should have – I should have asked, instead of hitting on you. With all those pick-up lines. And being all – uh – being me. I wanted to be more open, you know, but I guess I was too, uh, forward, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or to frighten you. I hope we can still be friends? No pressure though. I get it if you don’t wanna. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. And, uh, that’s all. Thanks for listening, I guess.”

Castiel was stumped. There was no other word for it.

“What? What are you sorry for? I don’t understand.”

Dean looked at him for the first time that night. “For... hitting on you?”

“And you think that was unwelcome?”

“You ran away, so... yes?”

“I promise you, Dean, it wasn’t unwelcome. It was... very, very welcome.” _Smooth, Cassie, very smooth,_ Balthazar’s voice said in his head.

Dean blinked, then squinted, the portrait of confusion. “So – you were into me?”

“I still am,” Castiel confessed. It was easier to do it now that he knew for sure that Dean had feelings for him... and now that this wasn’t the biggest admission he had to make. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Well, for one, it wasn’t that obvious, and two, after you asked me if I was hitting on you and I said yes you ran away and ghosted me. And now you tell me that actually you _were_ interested? Then – what went wrong?” Dean shook his head. “You looked terrified, I thought it meant you didn’t want to – is that because I changed in front of you?” He asked suddenly. “Is nudity a problem? Or sex? It’s okay, Cas, I like you, I’ll work with whatever you’re comfortable doing, no worries –”

“It wasn’t that,” Cas interrupted him. “But it had to do with you removing your shirt, yes.”

“Am I a turn-off, or—” Confusion was painted all across Dean’s face once again.

“I saw your soulmark.”

“Oh.” Dean looked down and rubbed the area over his heart, where his – _their_ – mark was. “I didn’t think you could see it.”

“I saw it in your reflection.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Dean licked his lips nervously. “I, uh, I get it. It’s kind of a big thing. Did it – turn you off or frighten you? Because I promise you, I care about _you_. I don’t care about my soulmate, I choose _you_ —”

Oh, the irony.

“Dean, we’re soulmates.” Better to rip the band-aid off as soon as he could, or he would never be bold enough to do it. “This mark – I have the same. On my heart. It’s mine. You’re my soulmate. I’m yours. We’re – we’re soulmates,” he concluded, rather lamely.

And then, because he felt like it wasn’t enough and because he was a bundle of nerves, he unbuttoned his own shirt. His fingers were trembling, but he managed to open it nonetheless. The cold stung; but his mark felt oddly warm as he exposed it to the night breeze and to Dean’s stunned gaze.

Dean looked at his mark, mouth open in a way that would have been funny at literally any other time. He tried to speak, swallowed back the words – whatever they were – and gulped audibly. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from it. His hand rose as if on autopilot to reach the place where his own mark was branded into his skin, a perfect mirror of Castiel’s own.

“You’ll – you’ll catch a cold. You should button up your shirt again.” Dean’s voice sounded disincarnate. Even as he said that, though, he was still staring at the mark.

Castiel knew the feeling. He too had been staring at his – _their_ – mark in his reflection for the past few weeks. He knew that strange cocktail of disbelief and despair and awe. Or, well, he hoped that maybe Dean was a little awed too.

Dean was able to look back at Castiel’s face only when his shirt was fully re-buttoned.

“My soulmate is _you_?” His tone was unreadable.

Castiel could only nod, once, twice. The lump in his throat was too big for him to speak.

Dean remained just as silent. And then, slowly, a smile blossomed on his lips. He let out a small, bewildered laugh.

“We’re _soulmates_?”

Castiel nodded again. And Dean’s small laugh turned into a roaring guffaw.

“I can’t believe it. Wow. Destiny’s doing things right for once, huh?” Dean hiccupped, wiping away the tears of laughter from his eyes.

The world stopped spinning long enough for Castiel to feel complete confusion. Please, God, don’t let him puke. Not _now_.

“Doing things – what? Dean, you hate the very concept of soulmates.”

“I do, yeah.” Dean shrugged. “Is that – Oh. Is that why you ran away? Because we’re soulmates?”

“Yes!”

“Did you run away because you hate the fact that _I’m_ your soulmate or because –”

“Wait, you’re the one who hates soulmarks, you don’t get to be pissed off because someone might not want you to be their soulmate—”

“Well, maybe that’s why I hate them so much!” Dean exclaimed. “You discovered you and I were meant to be together, and you took one look at me and went all ‘nope, I don’t want that to be my soulmate.’”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Then _what_ happened?”

“Dean, you told me you didn’t _want_ your soulmate.”

Dean opened his mouth, and then he closed it. His face softened as realisation dawned on him. “And you thought that meant I didn’t want you?” he asked. 

“Since I’m your soulmate... yes, that might have crossed my mind,” Castiel deadpanned.

“Oh.” Dean gulped. Castiel couldn’t help but look as he licked his lips nervously. “Cas, it’s not – I don’t like soulmarks because they force things on us, you see? People see they’re soulmates and they jump into a relationship together without even knowing each other or – or _liking_ each other. That’s not what I want.”

“I remember,” Castiel said.

“I don’t want to be paired off with someone I wouldn’t even like if it weren’t for the mark, you see? And I don’t want the universe deciding what our lives should be.”

“No need to press your point, I get it.”

“No, you don’t! What I mean is—” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I want _you_ , okay? Marked or not. I wanted to have something with you before I even knew we were soulmates, Cas. That... thing between us, it’s not the marks, it’s just – us. That’s _my_ feelings, you see? Mine and yours. It’s not – it’s not destiny, it’s you and I.”

“You want me?” Castiel whispered. “Even if – I’m your soulmate?”

Dean smiled. “Of course. It’s just – I don’t want you because of the mark or in spite of it, I just want you because – because it’s you.”

Castiel felt his cheeks flush. He had always thought the beauty of the mark was that it told people where to find that unique relationship that would change their lives – where to find the person who was perfect for them, the person who would take one look at them and say, ‘you’re it for me.’ But he was wrong; there was something better than that. Being told that you were wanted for yourself, for who you were, regardless of fate.

Was that why they were soulmates? Or was it just some lucky strike that happened to work out better than it was supposed to?

“Oh, thank fuck,” he said. That made Dean laugh.

Castiel was feeling brave again. He took a step forward. Then another. They were standing so close to each other now that he could feel Dean’s breath on his cheek.

“Should we – try?” he asked.

“Do you still want to?” Dean asked in return.

“More than anything,” Castiel confessed. “But only if you too still want that. After I – uh—”

“Ditched me and ghosted me,” Dean completed, a sassy smile dancing on his lips.

“I’ll have to make up for that, don’t I?”

“You will, Cas, you will.” Dean raised a hand and caressed Castiel’s cheek. His touch was soft, it yearned and it soothed in equal measure. “And yeah. I still want it.”

They met in the middle; Cas couldn’t say who dove in first. He forgot the question as soon as their lips touched, though.

Castiel would have loved to say that it was perfect. It wasn’t; they accidentally missed their target and Dean kissed the corner of his lips rather than the lips themselves. They tried again, and their noses bumped, the cold skin making them jump. They couldn’t stop laughing; it was perfect, in its own imperfect way.

They tried again, and this time – _this time—_ This time Castiel drowned. He drowned in the smell of Dean, all musk and leather and something else he’d have time to identify later; he drowned in Dean’s warmth, in the taste of his lips against his own and in the safety of Dean’s arms wrapped around him.

Castiel’s toes curled in his shoes at the same time as he curled his fingers in Dean’s hair and brought Dean even closer. Castiel’s heart was pounding, and Dean could probably hear it – they were so close. The feeling of Dean’s body against his own sent electricity sparkling in his spine. He felt warm. He felt fucking _glorious_.

They gasped when they finally moved back, out of breath and grinning like loons. Castiel didn’t let go of Dean, though, and neither did Dean. Castiel laid his head against Dean’s shoulder, smiling when Dean rested his cheek against his and hugged him tighter.

“So – we try?” Dean whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine and warmth coursing through his belly.

“Let’s try and see where we go,” Castiel agreed.

“Great.”

They remained standing outside in the cold for some time – minutes? hours? Castiel didn’t know, but it still seemed too short. He wanted it to last for the remainder of eternity.

Something was nagging at the back of his mind, though.

“You’re wrong, though,” he couldn’t help but say, because he was very good at self-sabotaging his own happiness. “It _is_ destiny. We kept on meeting until – until we developed feelings. That is – forcing us together. I would understand if you were – uncomfortable with that.”

Dean shook his head. His hands started drawing circles on Castiel’s back. “Actually – um. It wasn’t destiny, exactly. Or chance meetings, either. After Sam and Eileen’s wedding, we just – recommended you and Rowena to Garth and Bess, you see? Because you guys were great. And after we met at their wedding, you and I, I – I found you very cute – I mean I liked you the first time we met, but I didn’t think you were interested at all because you kinda rejected me, but the second time around you didn’t—”

“Wait, you were flirting?” Castiel asked, whipping his head away to stare at Dean’s face.

“As I understood later, you have no clue when people flirt with you.”

“Well, I’m not used to it. Were you flirting the whole time?”

“Perhaps people flirt with you often and you just don’t realise it.” Dean nudged his side playfully. “That’s not so bad, y’know, ‘cuz I’m in the monogamy thing and I don’t intend to let you go.”

“I thought you were simply thanking me for being considerate with Sam and Eileen!”

“No, I found you interesting when you did and I wanted to flirt with you, you dumbass.”

Castiel looked away, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. It made Dean laugh. His laugh shook his whole body against Castiel’s; that was nice, and something Castiel definitely wanted to feel again.

“What are you trying to say?” Castiel’s heart had stopped beating when Dean had mentioned that it _wasn’t_ destiny if they had kept on meeting; it was still on hiatus, actually. 

“Yes. Back to my point. My point is, after we met the second time, I had a huge crush on you but I didn’t have your number or anything and I wanted to see you again. So, uh – I told Adam and Michael, and Charlie and Dorothy, and Jo and Anna, too, that they should totally hire Rowena and you.” Dean looked away, his cheeks so bright red that Cas could see them even in the dark.

“It wasn’t destiny?” Castiel asked, dumbfounded.

“Nah, it wasn’t. Is that – is that a problem?” Dean asked nervously. “Did you want it to be?”

Castiel thought about it. “No. Actually, I think I like the real version better.” Because in the real version, Dean had looked for him, Dean had _wanted_ him – and perhaps it had been destiny if they had met the first time, but after that it had been Dean’s choice, because Castiel was _wanted_.

“There’s something else you need to know,” Dean added. He talked quickly, like someone who wasn’t used to long discussions of uncomfortable things. “My mark – it only appeared after that second time. After we met at Bess and Garth’s wedding.”

“It – really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know it was you. Scratch that – I thought it _wasn’t_ you, and let’s say, I wasn’t pleased that it had chosen to appear right when I was getting really interested in you.”

Castiel couldn’t help it: he laughed, long and resounding, because that must have been at least part of why Dean was so angry against fate that one time at the church. He had actually been trying to tell Castiel that he didn’t care if they weren’t soulmates, because he was choosing to try and have something with him... Because destiny had taken a look at them that second time they met, and it had nodded and said, ‘yes, they’re perfect for one another, it’ll never get better than that.’ Or maybe because their souls had met and had sung together, and they had chosen each other in that moment, and they had written their destiny themselves.

There were a million things Castiel wanted to say, but all he could manage to utter was, “Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean answered in kind, his gaze intense.

Castiel wanted to say it then – _I love you, Dean_ – but it was still too soon, they still had to explore their relationship... So he settled for kissing Dean again.

They traded kisses in the night, gasping for breath but never leaving the other’s lips for long.

Castiel felt Dean’s tongue caress his bottom lip, ever so gently – an invitation, a question – and he parted his lips with something close to breathless glee. _I’m yours, entirely. Please come in and never leave._

As it was, Dean did not seem intent on leaving either.

* * *

“So, that’s it for tonight, I guess,” Dean muttered as they stood in front of Castiel’s front door.

“All good things come to an end,” Castiel said, tightening his grip on Dean’s hand. In answer, Dean’s fingers laced with his. “But we’ll see each other soon.”

“God, I hope,” Dean whispered. Castiel wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear that.

“What time do you finish work tomorrow?” Cas asked in spite of himself. It was too soon for a date, he could wait a day or two—

“At five,” Dean answered quickly. “And you?”

Castiel smiled. Dean was as impatient as he was.

“We could go somewhere and eat,” he suggested.

“Fancy place, or—”

Castiel smiled, hoping that Dean wouldn’t see how uneasy he felt at the idea of going to a fancy restaurant – he was too awkward, he didn’t know the codes.

“You’re a burger and fries kinda guy, aren’t you?” Dean asked abruptly. Castiel nodded, hoping against hope it wouldn’t be a deal-breaker. “Thank God.”

“You don’t mind?” Castiel asked, bewildered.

“God, no. I’m not – very fancy. I thought it’d be a problem.”

Castiel laughed. “It’s not.” _It’s almost as if we were meant for each other_ , he almost said, and then he realised, it was true: they were meant for each other. Or perhaps they had found each other in the chaos of the world, perfect for each other, and if they worked on it and let the flame blossom, it would be forever.

“Still, sounds kinda lame for a first date,” Dean mused.

“We met at weddings, Dean. I would say our first dates were already very fancy.”

Dean smiled, and gave Castiel’s lips a peck. “Mind if I set something up for us?”

“I trust you,” Cas answered, and suddenly they were kissing again.

They only stopped when they were interrupted by a very dry – and very fake – cough. They turned... only to find the door wide open, and Castiel’s entire family watching them.

Balthazar’s grin was eerily similar to that of the Cheshire cat. Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows at Castiel excitedly, looking like he was enjoying the show. Meg and Claire were both looking at Dean through narrowed eyes, as if they were both looking for an opportunity to gauge his eyes out if he stepped out of line. Rowena was holding a glass of wine, enjoying herself; her smile was one of deep satisfaction. Kaia gave Castiel an approving smile.

“Hello, you! Dean Winchester, professional heartbreaker, I gather?” Bal asked. “I’m Balthazar, Castiel’s best family member.”

“I told you I heard something!” Jack beamed. Rowena patted his head with affection, and Jack’s beam grew even wider. It always did that when Jack helped Rowena in her shenanigans. And just like that, Castiel was _sure_ they had all waited all night for him to come home – out of curiosity, but also in case things turned out badly.

“I’m so happy for the two of you, sweethearts,” Rowena cooed. “Look how cute you two are!”

“Hi, Rowena,” Dean waved awkwardly. Except that he did so with the hand Castiel was still holding. Rowena’s grin grew even wider as she saw that. She took a sip of her wine to try and hide her pleased smile.

“Did he get his head out of his ass or do I need to snip his—” Meg asked Castiel.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Castiel hurried to say, because having a family member threaten bodily harm on the first date wasn’t exactly _romantic_ or _appealing_ , or even a sign that one should consider a serious relationship. “As it turns out, I was the one with my head up my, uh, butt.”

“Called it,” Kaia whispered.

“I’m so happy everything is okay now,” Jack said, hugging Castiel tight.

“You must be Jack,” Dean said with an affectionate smile.

“Hi!” the boy answered, waving his hand. “I’m glad to meet you.”

“Me too,” Kaia said. “I’m Kaia. Thanks so much for your message.”

“Hello, I guess,” Claire muttered, after Kaia gave her a blinding smile – Kaia was the only person in the world who had that effect on her, except for Jack.

“You’re Claire?” Dean asked. “How’s the car?”

And just like that, their resident rebellious teenager perked up.

“You could come in and eat with us. Dinner’s ready, and we’d love to know more about you,” Gabriel suggested. He winked at the both of them in a very unsubtle fashion.

Dean hesitated a fraction of a second, but then he smiled. “Well. I haven’t eaten anything at Jo and Anna’s wedding, so. Sounds like a good idea.”

“Too busy seducing Cassie to eat anything?” Gabriel asked with a knowing smile.

“You could say that,” Dean shrugged.

“Come in, come in!” Rowena exclaimed, pushing all the others out of the way. “Let him in, you all, let him in!”

“You get to know the family, after all,” Bal joked.

“And we have to threaten you properly,” Meg added.

“Meg, be nice!” Rowena scolded.

“As if you won’t do the same, you old witch—”

“She will, but she’ll do it with subtlety,” Kaia said. “Unlike you.”

“Which is actually a lot more terrifying,” Bal muttered.

“Rowena isn’t terrifying,” Jack objected, “she’s always nice.”

“You’re the baby of the house, she never threatens you, you dummy,” Claire said, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry,” Castiel said to Dean.

He half-expected Dean to be overwhelmed by his family. But instead, Dean smiled.

“Don’t be. Told ya, I like them already.” Dean’s thumb caressed the inside of Castiel’s hand, and they walked in the house together.


	6. Epilogue - Dean + Castiel

_Dean & Castiel are getting married!_   
_September 18, 2019 | The Barn_

* * *

A knock on the door distracted Dean from his self-inspection in the mirror.

“It’s me, can I come in?” Sam’s voice asked.

“Sure.”

Sam’s grin was so wide that Dean almost rolled his eyes out of habit – but hey, it was his wedding day. If there was one day in his entire life for his brother to look like a grinning idiot, it was this one.

And hell, _his_ own smile was impossibly wide too.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Handsome,” Sam answered. “Cas will _love_ that tux on you.”

Dean didn’t manage to conceal a smile. Cas _did_ love it when he wore tuxedos – he still remembered the _look_ in Castiel’s eyes during the entirety of Benny and Andrea’s wedding, and he remembered what had happened as soon as they got home even more vividly. Too bad he only wore tuxedos for weddings.

“It’s a nice change from your usual flannel shirt,” Sam added, because he was a little shit like that.

“Cas loves my flannel shirts.”

“Cas also loves his trench coat.”

“Don’t insult the trench coat, Sammy.”

“I don’t even want to know why you love that thing so much,” Sam shuddered.

Of course he’d suspect it had something to do with sexy times (well, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that). But what Dean loved most about it was just how _Cas_ the trench coat was. It was a cheesy thing to say though, so Dean wouldn’t say it – or at least, he wouldn’t say it to Sam.

“How’s everything going out there?” Dean asked instead as he tried to readjust his tie for the hundredth time in the last half-hour.

“It’s going fine. Claire and Rowena have stopped fighting about Claire’s hairstyle, Balthazar has only tried to seduce three of the guests, and Meg has only creeped out two people – that’s, uh, progress, I guess. Bobby has fallen asleep because Kevin has bored him with political talk, and Crowley is already half drunk. So far, so good. Usual wedding chaos.”

“Anything I should be worried about?”

“Let Rowena and Eileen take care of everything,” Sam said. “What about you? Nervous?”

He should probably be, Dean thought. Everything about the situation was nerve-wracking, in theory.

He had never thought he’d ever have a relationship with a man – aside from fleeting crushes and one night stands. He had never thought he would ever settle down with his soulmate, either – heck, he had never thought he would even _like_ his soulmate. He’d always thought he’d be paired off with someone who was either a psycho or someone who was... okay, but not the person who’d make him the best and happiest version of himself.

And yet.

He had never thought he would ever get Cas, either. First, the guy hadn’t even looked interested. Worse, he had rejected Dean (and to think that was his ‘I’m interested but shy’ move...). Then, he had had _no clue_ that Dean had liked him and every single one of Dean’s attempts had been as useful as a lighthouse in the desert. (How much more obvious could he have been, _honestly_?). Then he had run away and that was because he was _too_ interested and because he had _somehow_ thought that Dean would reject him.

God, what a socially inept doofus. Dean loved him so much.

Good thing, that Sam, Eileen, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Charlie, and pretty much everyone he loved had taken one look at his sorry face when Cas had disappeared, insisted that he talk to Cas and ask him what was wrong... Who knew where they’d be if they hadn’t?

Well, certainly not there, waiting for Cas and Dean to get married.

Good thing, too, that Cas had been the one to propose. He had kind of progressed since those times when he couldn’t get a damn clue. He was better at reading Dean now. So much better, in fact, that Dean hadn’t even known that he wanted to marry before Cas was down on one knee, his smile big and hopeful, and saying ‘Dean—” Cas had had a whole speech planned, but in the end, the ‘yes’ had bursted out of Dean before he could even think about it or before Cas had even said anything.

He straightened the flower pinned on his chest, and couldn’t conceal a smile as his fingers brushed over their soulmark, hidden under the multiple layers he was wearing. A heart sheltered by two beautiful wings – love, protection, acceptance, family.

The wings for Cas, not just because he was a real-life angel but because he had learnt how to free himself from his shackles to grow his own wings. The heart for Dean, a reminder that he should listen to his heart. A reminder that Cas kept his heart safe, always.

Perhaps everyone he knew was right and destiny wasn’t as huge a bitch as he had thought. Or perhaps he and Cas were right, and they had found each other in the chaos of life and torn the script into pieces. It didn’t matter. What mattered – what was real – was Cas and him.

Cas always said good things happened, and he was right. Good things _did_ happen. And Cas was the best damn thing to ever happen to him.

So, was he nervous? “Nah,” he said, eventually. “I’m right where I want to be.”

“Good,” Sam nodded. “Because it’s time.”

They had to walk from the hotel they had booked to the barn they had chosen for their wedding. Thankfully, it was a short walk – they just had to cross the road. It probably wasn’t the most convenient location for a wedding, but Dean didn’t care.

That barn – that was where he and Cas had had their first date, two years ago.

They didn’t want a fancy restaurant for their first date, and a shitty diner wasn’t good enough for a first date either. He had decided they should have a picnic instead. It was supposed to be perfect: they would lie on a blanket on the top of a hill and eat and watch the stars, and they would kiss and talk and... well, whatever would happen in the heat of the moment. Of course, Dean had forgotten that it had been November at the time, a month where rains could happen. Rains in November happen to be cold.

They had had to run, laughing all the way down the hill, and the barn was right there, closer than the car. They had found shelter there. It wasn’t beautiful by any means – it was old and grey and the walls were covered with graffiti. But they had made their own beauty in that drab place, lost in one another till they had chased the cold of the night away.

Dean didn’t even care what the place looked like. What mattered was Cas and their wedding.

Yet Dean was blown away when he walked into the barn this time around. Their family had promised they would make the place beautiful (Rowena especially had been thrilled by the challenge), but he hadn’t expected _this_.

Garlands made of fairy lights were hung everywhere and brightened up the place. The walls were covered with some sort of floaty blue and green fabric, covering all the ugly graffiti and making the place seem just a little more magical - Dean wouldn’t even know they were in an old barn if he hadn’t been there before. He could see their family’s personal touches everywhere. Drawings on the walls – the stick figures were Jack’s earnest attempt at art, definitely – and paintings of Cas and him, probably from Balthazar. A Moondoor banner. Wiccan sigils painted on the aisle… He blinked a couple of times, and cleared his throat. He _would not_ weep. He refused to. He could stand there and gaze at everyone’s brilliant efforts to brighten up their special day, and take it _like a man._

Besides, Dean knew all this was just the tip of the iceberg. The reception was still to come. Ellen had taken care of the drinks, Gabriel of the cake (which was more of a gigantic pie, actually), Jo and Anna of the music. And Rowena had organized the whole thing, from the ceremony to the reception, of course.

They were here, all of them, turning in their seats to see him as he and Sam walked in the room. Cas and Dean’s family. Rowena, Ellen and Jody were crying with Charlie, Ash and Donna patting their backs, Bobby was trying and failing to hide his own tears, Eileen gave Dean a thumbs-up, Garth was taking pictures, Crowley was rolling his eyes (and Kevin was glowering at him), Balthazar and Jack looked over the moon, Claire was looking at Dean instead of looking at her phone or at Kaia, and even Meg was smiling (so, miracles were a thing).

They already saw each other pretty much every day, what with Cas and Dean’s flat being located close to everyone’s house, but it was different seeing them all here, gathered to celebrate their love. Their _family_ , Dean thought fondly, the one they had found and built.

And then, with just one more step, Dean could see him, at the end of the aisle – Cas. His Cas. Stunning in his black tuxedo, a giant smile on his lips, and looking at Dean as if he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He always looked at Dean like that, as if he saw wonders in Dean’s soul, and it always made Dean’s heart stop. Under his gaze, he could believe that he was worth it, and that he was loved, and that everything would end well.

His niece, Mary, swayed on her little legs as she walked before him, taking handfuls of flowers out of the Navajo wedding basket she was holding – a present from Kaia – and throwing them everywhere she could, little arms straining as if she were about to pitch a winner on the field. It was one of the most adorable sights Dean had ever seen.

He stopped in front of the makeshift altar, in front of Cas. Sam took his place behind Dean, mirroring Gabriel’s position. (Gabriel had eventually won the role of Cas’ best man after a very loud and very vicious battle of wills; he had won only because he had been the one who had translated Dean’s lame pick-up lines during Charlie and Dorothy’s wedding.)

The officiant, a nervous little man whose name was Donatello Redfield, started speaking.

“Welcome, family, friends, and loved one. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Castiel Shurley and Dean Winchester.

“Castiel, Dean, your marriage will be a lifelong promise of love, respect, and trust. This union represents your commitment to support one another through the good, the bad, and the unexpected – to share your joys, your dreams as well as your sorrows. A strong bond works in unison –”

Dean was ashamed to say that he tuned out most of what Donatello said. He was lost in the blue of Cas’ eyes – the man he would soon be able to call his husband. The good, the bad, the unexpected, the joys and dreams and sorrows; they had already committed to that, and he couldn’t wait to have more of it, more of Cas, more of them together.

“Now, Dean and Castiel, please hold hands and face each other.” Cas’ hands were warm and soft in his, as always. “Dean Winchester, do you take Castiel Shurley to be your legally wedded husband?”

“Yes, I do,” he said.

“Castiel Shurley, do you take Dean Winchester to be your legally wedded husband?”

“Of course, I do,” Cas answered. His low voice always sent shivers down Dean’s spine, but these words... These words were special.

“Now, gentlemen, it is time for your vows.”

Castiel had a nervous smile (as if he could say anything that wouldn’t be beautiful), and he began, slowly but earnestly. “Dean. When I was younger and lost, I used to wonder what my true happiness could look like. I know now that if happiness had a face, it would be yours. You make me the happiest being on Earth every single day that passes. You’re the most caring and loving man I will ever know, and I am thankful I met you – and even more thankful that you love me back.”

Dean could swear he heard Claire mumble, ‘he always has, you dummy,’ and he had to fight back a laugh.

“You changed me, Dean, for the better. I promise from this day forward to love and treasure you for the rest of my life, to be your rock when things get difficult, and to build a safe and loving home with you. I love you, Dean.”

Shit, Dean was crying now. But Cas’ eyes were shining with tears too, and – oh, well, it was his wedding day, he was allowed to cry a little.

“Cas,” he said, “you have no idea how much I love you. I swear, it’s almost scary sometimes. I used to think love wasn’t for me, you know? But then I found you. And, Cas, I have to tell you – you’re my biggest win. I don’t know what I’d be without you. I want to grow old with you, I want to share everything with you, I want to always be there for you. So – I vow to always protect you, to stand with you, and to look to you in the brightest of days and darkest of nights. I promise to be your faithful and loving husband for the rest of my days. I love you, Cas.”

God, that was so cheesy. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, though.

“The rings, gentlemen,” the officiant asked.

Sam and Gabriel handed them the rings they had chosen, and Dean and Cas slipped them on each other’s fingers. Dean would have been embarrassed about how his hands were trembling, if Cas’ hadn’t as well.

“I now pronounce you husbands. Family, friends, loved ones, I have the honor to introduce to you Mr. and Mr. Winchester. You may now kiss!”

Dean tasted Cas’ lips as if it was the first time. They had kissed so many times, and they had even kissed at a wedding or two; but _this_ wedding was special because it was theirs, and _this_ kiss was special because it was their first kiss as husbands - after so much time spent at other people’s weddings. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the flash of the photographer’s camera as it immortalised their love.

* * *

**THE END!**

* * *


End file.
